Spike Covered in Chocolate
by Valerie X
Summary: AU Season 6. S/D friendship. Sequel to "Spike Shirtless and Bleeding".
1. Touch

Spike Covered In Chocolate

by Valerie X

AU Season 6. Spike/Dawn friendship. A sequel to "Spike Shirtless and Bleeding", which is pretty good in my hugely biased opinion. Find it in my profile here or on my site: http://www.geocities.com/webandofbuggered

Part One: Touch

Giles picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Do you really have to go?" Willow said, her sweet face crunching into a frown.

Giles chuckled as he dug out his boarding pass. "That must be the tenth time you've said that today, Willow. And the answer is still yes."

"Okay, but you tell those stuffy council guys that you're needed back here soon," Xander said. "Because Anya and I aren't having our wedding without you."

Giles nodded. "Indeed. It shouldn't take more than a few weeks. And remember, until then, be sure to - "

"Patrol every night," Tara finished for him.

"And take good care of the store," Anya added. 

"And find the Enoispep demon," Xander said. 

"Yes, yes," Giles said. "And above all - look after Dawn." 

"Giles, I told you," Willow said. "She's perfectly fine with Spike." 

"I know you believe he's changed," Giles said sternly. "But remember that it wasn't so long ago when he tried to kill us all. And on several separate occasions." 

"Don't worry about it," Xander said, patting Giles on the shoulder. "You just go have fun in merry old England. We'll keep an eye on the living dead." 

Giles hugged each of them one last time and then walked down the terminal, into the plane.

"Do you really think Dawnie's okay?" Tara asked when Giles was out of view. 

"We visited them just last week," Anya said. "She seemed fine." 

"Still," Willow said. "She might have a lot of pent-up feelings." 

"And she might be living with a brutal killer," Xander remarked. 

Willow threw him a disapproving look. "For the last time, Xander. Spike is not evil."

*

Spike pushed the girl into his apartment, his hands roughly grabbing her shoulders, his body hard against hers, his craving unbearable. 

She gasped at his brutality, then giggled, and planted tiny kisses around his ears. 

Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as they hurried into his bedroom. Once inside the room, Spike pulled away from the young woman long enough to shut the door quietly and remove the rest of his clothes. She tore her dress off in one motion, and Spike was happy to see that she was wearing nothing underneath it. He lunged at her. 

"Wait just a minute," she said, stopping his motion with one delicate touch to his chest. "I have something for you." 

"Your naked body is all I need, love," Spike said. He ran his hands down her sides, causing her to shiver, but she still took a step back. 

"You'll like it, I promise." She reached down to where she had dropped her purse and removed a bottle of choclate syrup. 

Spike grinned, his tongue darting out of his mouth and dancing on his lips. 

He lay down on the bed with the woman straddling him. He flinched as the warm liquid touched his chest, then relaxed and enjoyed the sensation as it dripped down his stomach. Just before the flow of chocolate reached his crotch, he felt the woman's tongue lapping it up, licking up his stomach and over his nipples. He moaned, delighting in her touch, and when her face met his, he swallowed her mouth in a passionate kiss. 

"Mmmmm, I want to consume you," the woman said breathily. 

Spike's eyes flashed red. "Not if I do it first." 

He plunged his teeth into her neck and took in a large gulp of blood. The woman gasped, shocked by the pain, and tried to scream, but Spike put his hand over her mouth as he continued to drink. 

When he could feel her body weaken, Spike took a stake out from underneath his pillow and plunged it into her chest. She exploded into dust, leaving Spike with blood dripping down his chin. 

He wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and got out of bed. Her purse was still on the floor. Inside Spike found a wallet, complete with a fake college ID. She had been passing herself off as human so that she could lure mortal men into her bed and then make them a meal. He had spotted her at the Bronze, dancing and flirting, and decided he may as well try to fool her. She had believed him to be human, so she was all too willing to go back to his apartment. 

There was fifty dollars in the wallet as well, which Spike pocketed. But what he'd really wanted was her ring. He dug through the dusty sheets until he found it. He examined the stone. It was real, and it would pay his rent this month. 

Spike looked down and his naked body and groaned. Chocolate syrup, saliva, and vampire dust combined to make a disgusting, sticky paste. He'd have to shower before doing anything else. 

The apartment was a spacious two-bedroom with an eat-in kitchen. But on nights such as this one, Spike was most appreciative of the bathroom. While living in a crypt was mysterious and dangerous, it was also filthy, and Spike never missed his old home. 

He opened the frosted glass doors and stepped into the comforting steam. The water soothed his taut muscles and he realized that he was exhausted. The vampire population of Sunnydale was at an all-time high, and he had been spending every moment possible hunting them down. He barely remembered what human blood tasted like. 

"You know," came a female voice, "I can see your butt through that glass, and it's totally gross." 

Spike poked his head up over the shower doors and saw Dawn standing in the doorway, wearing blue cotton pajamas with tiny pink hearts on them. 

"My butt is not gross!" Spike said. 

"Is too," Dawn said. "Why are you taking a shower in the middle of the night?" 

"Why are you awake in the middle of the night?" Spike countered. "And a bloody school night at that. Go back to bed." Spike leaned back down and continued to scrub his body. 

"Well *someone* woke me up by killing something in our house," Dawn argued. "You're not supposed to bring evil things in here." 

"Uh-huh," Spike said as he poured shampoo into his hand. "Says who?" 

"Says me." 

"And when did you become the bleeding boss around here?" 

"Today when I washed the dishes, even though it wasn't my turn." 

Spike scrubbed his hair, building up a thick lather. "Yeah, well, when you learn to cook a sodding meal, then I'll wash the dishes every night." 

Dawn smirked. "But if I learn to cook like you, then we'll both die of food poisoning." 

Spike reached up over the shower doors and tossed a handful of suds at Dawn. She dodged them, giggling, and then grabbed a sponge from the sink and hurled it back over the top of the shower. 

"What the -- bloody hell girl! Don't go throwing sponges at me!" 

Dawn laughed. Spike turned the water off and stuck his hand out. "Hand me the towel." 

"No." 

"Fine," Spike said as he opened the shower door. "You'll just have to see my gross butt." 

Dawn shrieked and ran out of the bathroom. 

*

When Spike had toweled himself off and put on clean clothes, he went into Dawn's room to check on her. She was lying on her bed asleep, with a book resting on her stomach. Spike moved the book to her nightstand, pulled the blanket up to her neck, and paused to look at her. Her thick hair fell over half her face, her lips were slightly parted, and her shoulders moved up and down with each deep breath. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight, nibblet."

Dawn's mouth twitched in a sleepy smile. "Night Spike," she mumbled.

*

"Here it is: Enoispep," Tara said, pointing at a page in the large, worn book. "Oh, this doesn't look good." 

Willow leaned over and read from the book. "'An Enoispep is a demon who was once mortal, raised from the dead, who sustains its life by feeding off the lives of others.'" 

"Sounds like a vampire," Anya said from behind the counter. 

"Sounds worse," Tara said. "Look at this. 'This demon can destroy anything mortal or demonic with an extended touch.'" 

"So it could just touch you and kill you?" Anya asked. 

"No biting required," Willow said. 

Anya opened the cash register and began to count the money. "Why do we care about this thing, anyway? It's not like anyone's seen it around." 

"Willy told Giles he'd heard some vamps in his bar talking about an Enoispep demon in town," Willow explained. "So no one's actually seen it yet. But it's probably best if we find it before it starts feeding." 

"But how do we find it?" Tara asked her. "This is the only book that mentions it, and there's no picture." 

Willow considered this. "I guess we just look for something big and slimy." 

"Hey!" Anya shouted. "Not *all* demons and big and slimy, you know." 

"And if this one isn't," Tara said. "Then we don't even know what we're looking for." 

"Maybe we could ask around," Willow said. 

"Sure," Anya said sarcastically. "We'll just go up to vampires around town and say, 'Excuse me! Before you bite me and kill me, could you tell me if you've seen a demon?'"

"Anya," Willow said. "If you're not going to be helpful, be elsewhere." 

Anya glowered. "See if I ask *you* to be a bridesmaid." 

*

Spike woke up at three in the afternoon. 

His sleep schedule had been seriously affected by becoming Dawn's guardian. Every morning at seven he had to make sure Dawn woke up and left for school on time. Then he would sleep for most of the day, awakening when she was due home from school. After Dawn was asleep, he would go out, hunting until the sun rose. Most days he was awake from the afternoon until the early morning.

Spike groaned and rolled into a sitting position. He was exhausted. He felt as if there was a race on between him and the demons of this town, but it was futile to think that way. 

He could kill a thousand of them, but they'd still keep coming. 

Buffy. 

He'd said that to Buffy. 

"Bloody hell," he muttered. He didn't have time to get depressed. He got out of bed and went into the kitchen before he could think about her anymore. 

Dawn always came home from school hungry and went straight for chips and snacks. Lately Spike had tried to discourage this by giving her fruit or vegetables, but it always turned into an argument, if not a food fight. Yesterday Spike had bought some peaches, and he took one of them out of the refrigerator as a cup of pig's blood was boiling in the microwave. 

"Spike." 

Spike jumped, nearly dropping the fruit, but quickly composed himself and looked around the house. His eyes narrowed and his skin tingled, ready for a fight. "You best get out of my house," he growled. "Before I rip out your sodding spine and lick it clean." 

"Spike, it's me." 

The sound was coming from inside his mind. He sighed. 

"Dammit, girl! Can't you just use a bloody telephone?" 

"I need to practice my telepathy," he heard Willow say. "Look, we think there's a dangerous demon in town. Can you come to Magic Shop and see us?" 

"Sorry, Red," Spike replied as he took his blood out of the microwave. "The little bit's coming home from school soon, and then we're having dinner." 

He could sense Willow's surprise before he heard her speak. "You're having dinner? As in, cooking dinner?" 

"That's what I said," Spike argued aloud. "So if you want to talk to me you can come by here around six." 

"For...dinner?" Willow said. 

"Yes," Spike said. "And if you continue to imply that I'm a poof, I'll feed you pig's blood." 

"No, no, I wasn't implying anything," Willow said quickly. "Okay, I'll come over at six then." 

"Fine, now get out of my head!" Spike shouted. 

Spike looked up to see Dawn standing in the apartment doorway. "Do you know that if you hear voices, it means you're schizophrenic, and you have to go live in a mental institution?" she said. 

"If I go to a mental institution, I'm taking you with me," Spike said, walking up to her. "And sticking electrodes in your little nose." 

Dawn rolled her eyes as she tossed her backpack onto the couch. "You are so gross. Do we have any Tostitos?" 

Spike blocked Dawn's path to the refrigerator and held a peach out towards her. "Oh, no, little girl. Here." 

Dawn looked at the peach. "Ew." 

Spike put his hand on Dawn's shoulder and guided her to the couch. "Sit, watch the telly, and eat the sodding fruit." 

"Are you gonna keep talking to yourself?" Dawn asked. 

"I was talking to Willow." 

Dawn's face lit up. "Is she coming over?" 

"Later." Spike sat down on the couch next to Dawn and took a sip of his blood. "Some big nasties about, the usual." Spike grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the TV. 

Dawn took a bite of the peach and made a face. "This is terrible." 

"It's good for you," Spike said. 

"Then why aren't you eating one?" 

"Because peaches don't bleed." 

Dawn scowled and continued eating. When she had eaten half of the peach, she checked to make sure Spike was engrossed in the "Beverly Hills 90210" rerun, and then shoved the rest of the fruit in-between the couch cushions. 

"Hey, Spike," Dawn said. "Tell me about the first girl you loved." 

"She was an evil bitch who broke my heart and I hope she's burning in hell. Why do you ask?" 

Dawn smiled dreamily. "I like this guy." 

"Uh-huh," Spike said without looking away from the television screen. "Will you still like him if his limbs got torn off?" 

Dawn reached out and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "Spike!" 

"So who is this boy?" Spike asked. 

Dawn pulled her legs up onto the couch and turned to face Spike. "If I tell you, do you promise not to kill him?" 

"Yes." 

"*Or* maim him." Dawn added. 

Spike scowled. "I suppose." 

"His name is Steve," Dawn said with a big smile. "And he's really cute and really nice. And I think he likes me too, because yesterday I saw him in the hall and I said hi, and he said hi back to me, and then today I was at my locker and he walked by, and he said hi and he touched me on the shoulder." 

Spike stood up and began to walk out of the room. 

"Hey!" Dawn said. "Where are you going?" 

"I'm going to the bathroom to heave." 

*

Spike was in the kitchen when he heard the knock on the door. Cooking was a new experience for him, since it had been over a hundred years since he'd had any need for food. But he'd found that cooking was a lot like killing people: fun if you did it right, but a bitch if you had to clean up. 

Willow greeted Spike with her characteristically charming smile and a box of donut holes. 

"I figured you cook the dinner, and I bring the desert," she said. "Wow, I feel like a grown-up. Dawnie!" 

Dawn pushed her schoolbooks off her lap and rushed into Willow's arms, even though it had only been a week since they'd seen each other. 

"How've you been?" Willow asked her. "Has our favorite vampire been treating you okay?" 

"Well, sometimes he tortures me," Dawn said. She leaned closer to Willow and whispered, as if sharing a horrible secret. "Like today...he made me eat fruit." 

*

"This is great," Willow said as she ate another bite of the meal. 

Spike glowered across the table at her. "Why do you sound so bloody surprised?" 

Willow turned to Dawn, trying to change the subject. "So how's school?" 

"It's okay," Dawn said. "I'm doing real good. And there's this guy I like, Steve." 

Spike groaned. 

"Oooo," Willow said. "Tell me all about him." 

"Well," Dawn said, her face flushed with excitement. "His name is Steve and he's really cute and really nice and I think he likes me because-" 

"Because one day the bugger touched her shoulder," Spike interrupted. "And as soon as I see him I'll break those bloody fingers right off." 

"Spike!" Dawn whined. 

"What else is going on at school?" Willow asked. 

"Well, there's this girl I don't like, Jonie." Dawn said. "She's really stuck-up." 

"Want me to kill her?" Spike asked. 

Dawn nodded. "Yeah." 

"Okay." 

"Spike!" Willow shot him a disapproving glance. 

"I'm only kidding," he said. He raised his eyebrows at Dawn. "Unless she's a demon." 

"I think she is," Dawn said, stifling a giggle. "A special demon, where the only way to kill her is if you cut off all her hair." 

Spike nodded, his face dark and serious. "If a haircut will end her reign of terror, I can't see how I can refuse." He shrugged. "And if I already have the scissors with me, I might as well disembowel the chit." 

The glasses on the table rattled as Willow kicked Spike. 

"Bloody hell, woman, I'm only joking." Spike said. "What crawled up your ass and died?" As soon as the words were spoken, Spike heard Willow's voice in his head and his mouth fell open in shock "Where did you learn that word, Red?" 

"What word?" Dawn asked excitedly. 

"Don't you have some homework to finish?" Spike snapped at her. 

Dawn groaned. "Yeah, but it's totally boring." 

"Maybe I can help!" Willow suggested. "What's it about?" 

"It's a paper for English, about Lord Alfred Tennyson." 

"Alfie Tennyson?" Spike laughed. "I knew that bloke. He was a filthy bugger and no one liked him, except two-pence rent boys, if you know what I mean." 

"Huh?" Dawn said. 

"Go ahead and do your homework, Dawnie," Willow said. "I'll come by and see you again real soon." 

"You have to leave?" Dawn's face fell. 

"How about this weekend?" Willow said. "Tara and I could take you to the movies or something." 

Dawn stood up and hugged Willow. "Okay. Bye, Willow." 

"Bye, Dawnie," Willow said. 

*

Spike and Willow stood on the street outside his apartment. A vampire and a witch in quiet conversation went unnoticed among the Sunnydale population that frequented the coffee shop and movie theater further down the street. Spike leaned against the brick building and lit a cigarette. "So tell me about this demon, Red." 

"It's called Enoispep." 

Spike took a long hit of the cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nose. "Never heard of it." 

"It's a human brought back to life, that kills other humans by touching them," Willow explained. 

Spike shook his head. "It sounds like something some ancient bloke made up to sell books." 

"So you don't know anything about it?" Willow asked. 

"Sorry, Red," Spike said. "Is this thing around somewhere?" 

"We haven't seen it, only heard of it," Willow said. "So I guess it might not be real." She chuckled. "Of course, now that I said that, it's probably going to go on a huge killing spree." She checked her watch. "I better go. We're going on a patrol soon." 

Spike nodded. "But hey, if you see any vamps in long red robes, steer clear. I've been hunting those buggers for days, and they're a brutal bunch." 

"What are they?" 

"The Order of Reitor," Spike explained. "I should finish them off tonight, but you Scoobies stay out of their way. They're stronger than a typical vampire." 

Willow gave him a worried look. "You sure you'll be okay?" 

Spike's eyes seemed to glimmer as he smiled. "I'm not a typical vampire." 

*

Spike pounded on Dawn's bedroom door again. The hallway was dark, and the light from under her door spilled over his bare feet. He had taken his shirt off, and the muscles of his chest tensed as he restrained himself from simply pulling the door off its hinges. 

"Bloody hell, Dawn, what are you doing?" he shouted. It was time for her to go to bed, but she had barricaded herself in her room for the past few hours. 

"None of your business!" came back her reply. "Just leave me alone!" 

Spike growled through his clenched jaw. "Look, you don't have to open the door, but turn the bloody light off and go to bed already!" 

"You can't make me do anything!" Dawn's voice was upset, but strong in its defiance. 

"What the bleeding hell is wrong with you, you lunatic!" Spike put his hands to his head and muffled a scream of frustration. When he was fifteen, rebellion meant sneaking out of boarding school late at night and smoking cigarettes in the rugby field. But apparently these days, adolesence was marked by becoming completely insane. 

The door clicked open and one of Dawn's eyes came into view. "If I tell you, will you promise not to yell?" 

Spiek fought down the urge to put his hand through the wall and forced a smile. "I promise not to yell." 

Dawn let the door swing open and stood in front of Spike in her pajamas. Though had just turned fifteen, she still looked like a little girl, wearing a pink kitten nightshirt, her long hair in lopsided braids she had done herself. But when she looked up at Spike, her eyes seemed older than the Earth. Which, he supposed, they were. 

"I don't want you to go out tonight," she stated firmly. 

"No offense, little bit," Spike said. "But too bloody bad. This is the way it works. You go to bed, I go kill things." 

"Unless things kill you first!" she spat out, her voice catching on a sob. 

"Nothing is going to kill me," Spike said, as if the mere thought of it was laughable. He gestured to his bare chest. "This is the big bad, remember?" 

"You said the Order of whatever in the red robes was really strong," Dawn said quickly. "And if you die, then I don't know where I'm gonna go, or what I -" 

"Oh, cut it out already," Spike interrupted. He pulled Dawn's body against him and she pressed her face into his chest. He was instantly cured of the aggravation she had caused him. Something about her touch; he figured it could heal anything. 

"For Christ's sake, nibblet. When are you going to learn that you're the only person on this sorry planet that I don't lie to?" 

Dawn turned her face up to look at him. "You were lying to Willow?" 

Spike nodded. "The Order of Reitor are just some stupid vamps bumbling around town waiting for me to rip their sorry heads off. But they fancy themselves special, so they all wear this big gold medallions, which I plan to steal and hock, and I didn't want the little witch getting her hands on my cash." 

Dawn stepped back from Spike's embrace, her eyes lowered. 

"And you better bloody well stop listening out the windows, before I toss you through one." 

Dawn smiled. "You couldn't. These windows are shatter-proof glass." 

"Yeah? You wanna test that out?" 

Spike lifted Dawn slightly off her feet, causing her to giggle and squirm happily. He pulled her into another quick hug before nudging her towards her bed. 

"Now go to sleep and I'll see you in the morning," Spike said as he walked out of the room. "And don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen." 

"Now that I've said that," Spike muttered to himself as he walked out into the night, "Something terrible is going to happen." 

More to come.


	2. Blood and Baby Powder

Part Two: Blood and Baby Powder

"Reitor, lord of pain, hear my prayer."

In an old mausoleum, under cover of darkness, six hooded figures circled their victim. The victim was a young man, his skin pale save for the many bruises on his bare chest. At first glance he appeared thin, but as he hung from the shackles, muscles bulged painfully from his extended arms. His head was down and his chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.

One of the figures continued speaking. "Reitor, god of destruction. From this mortal's blood, you shall rise."

Another one of the figures stepped forward and brandished a sword, as the first continued: "Reitor, king of the underworld-"

The second figure moved closer to the victim.

"-ruler of the undead-"

The sword touched the victim's chest.

"-most exhaled, most worshipped, most humbling great Reitor-"

The victim raised his head. "Enough with the ass-kissing, mate." He grabbed the sword by its blade and wrenched it from the hand of the vampire.

A low growl came from beneath the hood of the red-robed vampire. "Stupid mortal. You will die even more slowly now!"

"Stupid vampire," the victim replied. "I'm not mortal."

With one swift motion Spike pulled his arms free of the chains. Before any of the other vampires could react, he had swung the sword in a wide arc and decapitated two of the six vampires. The remaining four rushed him, but he dodged out of the way and delivered several strong blows to their backs. One doubled over, but the others kept going, grabbing Spike's arms and trying to pin them behind his back.

Spike kicked his legs up and each big black boot connected hard with a vampire's face. Their pain was only momentary, but it allowed him enough time to get a sword in each hand. Before long there was only one vampire left. He lie on the floor, bleeding from a deep chest wound, and glaring up at a shirtless, bruised, and smirking Spike.

"Reitor can not be harmed," the vampire growled. "You can kill us, but you will never destroy our master."

Spike positioned the sword over the vampire's next. "Not too bloody interested in your master." He slid the blade under a long, gold chain and broke it easily. "I just came for this." He grabbed the medallion, and then buried the blade in the vampire's neck.

*

Xander put his head down on the table and took a deep breath, ready to fall asleep. Anya had woken him at six in the morning, excited about opening the store by herself. She had tossed him a thick, old book and told him to continue his research while she stood at the register and counted the money.

"Xander, wake up!" Anya yelled as soon as he was about to drift off. "This Eno-whatever demon isn't going to slay itself."

"Maybe it will," Xander said, "You know, maybe the other demons are treating him badly, the female Enoispeps won't go out with him, and he just decides to end it all."

The opening of the door momentarily distracted Anya from the money, until she saw Willow enter. "You're not a customer," she pouted.

"Not when the salespeople have attitudes like that," Willow muttered.

"Hey Will," Xander said. "You get any info from our least-favorite bloodsucker?"

Willow shook her head. "He didn't know anything about the Enoispep." She sat down at the table. "Maybe Willy was lying. Maybe it doesn't even exist."

"Help!"

Willow and Xander were at their feet in a moment, until they saw who had just rushed through the Magic Shop door. As he stood in the entranceway holding his chest and panting, they sat down again.

"You have to help me!" he squeaked out.

"I dunno," Xander said to Willow. "Do we really *have* to?"

Willow pursed her lips together in a stubborn line. "I don't think there's any rule that says we *have* to."

Anya shoved her stack of bills into the register angrily. "Go away, Jonathan."

Jonathan took a few wary steps closer to them. "I said I was sorry about the spell I did. It was stupid, I know. Can't we just forget about it?"

"Tara was almost killed!" Willow snapped.

"I moaned your name!" Anya shuddered at the memory.

Jonathan hung his head. "I'm sorry. Really I am."

Willow rolled her eyes at the sight of his pathetic form. "What's wrong, Jonathan?"

Jonathan smiled slightly and rushed to join them at the table.

"I think something's after me," he said. "These weird things keep happening."

"Could you be a little more specific?" Xander asked.

"It started yesterday," Jonathan explained. "I passed by a homeless man on the street, so I gave him a dollar. But when I held it out to him, he grabbed my arm."

"We fight vampires and demons," Xander said. "We don't run a protection agency."

"But - no!" Jonathan stammered out. "I don't think this guy was human."

"Why not?" Willow asked.

"When he grabbed me, it hurt. But not like, regular hurt. He wasn't holding me very tightly, but it hurt a lot. It felt like...like he was burning me from the inside, just from touching me."

The others exchanged glances.

"A demon that kills by touch," Anya said.

Willow nodded. "The Enoispep." She turned to Jonathan. "What did he look like?"

"That's the weird part," he continued. "I saw him again, and he looked like someone else. I went to a store last night, and when the cashier handed me my change, he grabbed my hand, and it hurt, in the same way."

"So it can change form," Anya said.

"Wait, this doesn't make sense," Xander said. "If this thing is the Enoispep, its touch would kill him, wouldn't it?"

Jonathan paled.

"Not necessarily," Willow said. "Jonathan, when this man grabbed you, you said he didn't grab you really hard, right?"

He nodded. "I pulled away from him."

"So maybe the Enoispep doesn't have super-human strength."

"If Jonathan got away from it," Xander mumbled. "It doesn't even have *regular* human strength."

"That's possible," Anya said. "Most demons are stronger than an average human, but in some, their individual power is all they have. The Enoispep can kill through touch, not strength. So it might be hard for him to keep his victims still long enough to kill them."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" Xander asked them all. "That means we can kill it."

"If we can find it," Willow said. "It could be anyone."

*

When Spike stumbled into the apartment, Dawn was standing at the kitchen counter, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Earlier that evening he was sure he'd wiped out all of the Order of Reitor vampires, but when he was on his way home a few more jumped him. He thought the rising sun would chase them away, but they appeared to be more concerned about the desecration of their ceremony than their impending death. He just barely managed to escape into the sewers, where he had to trudge through miles of filth before he got to the basement of their building.

But the Order of Reitor was nothing compared to the dirty look Dawn gave him as he fell onto the couch.

"What's your sodding problem?" Spike asked her.

"It's seven-thirty, and you're just *now* getting home," Dawn said accusingly.

"I'm very sorry," Spike said sarcastically. "I told the vamps I had places to be, but that didn't seem to deter them from *beating my bloody face in*!"

Dawn shoved the sandwich in a plastic bag and grabbed her book bag off a kitchen chair. "Fine, I'll just starve and die. What do you care?"

"What the bleeding hell are you talking about?" Spike shouted. But Dawn was already past him, slamming the door behind her.

*

Tara leaned on the magic shop counter and picked through a basket of herbs in tiny plastic bags. "What do you think, sage?"

Willow looked up from the table where she was reading her history book. "That could make the demon show itself. Even a simple spell might do it. Once Giles used a German spell invoking Hecate to unmask a demon."

"That's good news, right?" Tara asked.

"Not necessarily," Willow admitted. "Demons hide themselves using magic, so magic can easily undo it. But this demon we're dealing with now...The shape-shifting could be in its nature, in which case, it would take powerful magic to uncover it." Willow closed her book and stood up. "Plus, we couldn't just go around throwing sage on everyone in town."

Tar shrugged. "Everyone would smell nice at least. Anyway, Jonathan should lead us to him, right?"

"Hopefully," Willow said.

"Help!"

Willow rolled her eyes. Tara looked over her shoulder to the back room, where Jonathan had been hiding out. "We should probably help him," Tara said.

"Probably," Willow agreed.

"Help!"

Willow reached into the basket and rustled through the bags of herbs. "So....sage, huh?"

Tara smiled. "I can make a great pasta sauce with it."

The back door banged open and Jonathan was pushed into the store. He landed hard on the ground, and struggled helplessly to get to his feet as Spike came up behind him.

"Help me!" Jonathan choked out. "He came in through the basement! He attacked me!"

Spike stood over his prone body and chuckled. "I could've killed you ten times by now, Wonder Jonathan. Bloody well should after all you've put us through." Jonathan gasped in pain as Spike's foot connected with his midsection.

Spike was about to kick him again when he heard a tiny voice in his head. "Spike, please don't kill him."

"Why the hell not?" Spike shouted. Jonathan looked up, unsure of whom Spike was talking to.

"We think the demon's after him," he heard. "He could lead us to it."

Spike scowled down at Jonathan before swaggering over to Willow and Tara. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.

"Spike," Tara said politely. "How are you doing?"

"Let me tell you something," Spike said, pointing his cigarette at them to emphasize his words. "Once, sometime in the early part of the century, I don't remember exactly when, this algae demon started giving me and Dru a hard time. So naturally, I had to kill the bugger. Ends up he was working for a very powerful, very old vamp, who chained me up and tortured me for days. Eventually Dru came in and we took them out, but I ended up with my limbs nearly torn off, and covered in bits of algae demon. And do you know what?" He paused to take a hit from his cigarette. *"It wasn't nearly as bad as living with a bloody fifteen year-old girl!"*

"Well...um..." Tara began. "It's a difficult age for any girl. And considering what Dawn's been through --"

"And then there's that bloke at her school she keeps talking about," Spike interrupted. "I bet he's the one making her crazy. I should rip his intestines out through his --"

"Maybe she could use someone to talk to her about boys," Willow suggested. "Tara and I wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, what are *you two* going to tell her about boys?" He sucked the last bit of smoke from his cigarette and flicked it into a far corner. "Besides, what's there to know? Boys are filthy gits and she should steer clear of them entirely." He chuckled, licking his lower lip suggestively. "Maybe the two of you *could* teach her a couple things." Suddenly his hand twitched involuntary. Spike looked at it, confused, and it abruptly punched him in the face.

Willow and Tara exchanged small smiles as Spike rubbed his nose and rattled off British swear words.

"Dawn's going to be dating soon, whether you like it or not," Willow said. "All we can do is make sure she doesn't make bad choices."

Spike considered this as he checked his face for broken bones. "Huh?"

"Dawn is becoming a young woman now," Tara explained. "But she doesn't have her mother or sister around to talk to you about...you know...girl stuff?"

Spike stared at them blankly.

"She may have questions," Willow said. "About boys, and dating, and...her body."

Spike turned even paler than he already was. "Her *body*?"

"She's 15," Willow explained. "And in the tenth grade. She's at an age where if some of her friends aren't having sex, they're at least talking about it."

"So it might be helpful if Willow and I talked to her about sex," Tara said.

"No. No bloody way are you two coming into my house and putting ideas in her head."

"It's not putting ideas in her head," Willow argued. "It's educating her. She needs to know about monogamy, pregnancy, sexually transmitted diseases-"

"Or I could just find the boys who want to have sex with her," Spike interrupted. "And kill them."

Willow folded her arms across her chest and attempted a stern glare. "In all honesty, Spike, if she decides to have sex, she's not going to tell you about it."

A low growl came from deep within Spike's throat. "This is all driving me mad. I really need to kill something."

"Good," Willow said. "You can start in the sewers. Last night we spotted one of those red-robed vampires you told me about. He went down into a manhole."

Spike ran a hand over his face and his unkempt hair. "I'm bloody exhausted."

Tara put her hand on Willow's arm. "Honey, we could go patrol the sewers. We could get Anya to watch Jonathan."

"No!" Spike said quickly. "Those Reitor buggers are mine." He spun around and headed to the back entrance. Jonathan was still on the floor, but he had pulled himself up into a sitting position. As he walked by, Spike bared his vamp face, and was inwardly delighted when Jonathan cowered.

*

"Come out, come out, you robey bastard," Spike sang softly as he trudged through the underground tunnels. He hadn't slept since the previous afternoon, and it was beginning to take a toll on him. His head was cloudy and his limbs heavy. He was tired, hungry, grouchy, and ready to tear apart the bloodsucker that stood between him and his bed.

Then he smelled it. Blood. Young female human blood, near death, reeking of delicious fear. It was spilling out of her body right now, trickling over skin that had been speckled with baby powder that morning.

Spike's initial reaction was arousal. When he had been killing humans, what he was smelling now would be a prime meal. But his excitement was short-lived, and he hesitated in his step at the recent associations the smell invoked.

Human blood, innocent blood, smelling like Dawn had smelled as her blood dripped down her body, over her legs, and left small red footprints on the steps of the tower, on the night Glory tried to kill her, on the night Buffy...

Spike bit his lower lip, the slight pain bringing him back into the present. He concentrated on following the scent. If he could smell a fresh victim this potently, a vampire couldn't be far.

When he rounded the corner his hunch was confirmed. A thin, homely vampire wearing a red robe was firmly attached to the neck of a teenage brunette. The girl was twitching slightly, but more as a reflex than a defense; she was moments away from death.

"Hey ugly red riding hood!" Spike shouted.

The vampire lifted his head from the woman's throat and let her body slide to the ground. Thin lines of thick-scented blood dripped from the corners of his mouth. "You killed my brethren," he growled. "In the name of Reitor, dark prince of night, I shall reign vengeance down upon --"

Spike cut off the soliloquy with a boot to the face.

The vampire fell to the ground, and was about to push himself up when Spike's knee connected with his face. Spike crouched over the vampire's prone form, ripped the gold medallion off, and held his hand ready over his victim's chest. Then he realized that his hand was empty.

The vampire laughed. "You don't have a stake."

Spike smiled as his face changed into its demonic state. "I don't need one."

Spike grasped the vampire's shoulders and buried his head in its neck. The sewer tunnel echoed with its scream as Spike pulled his head back, his mouth full of the vampire's flesh.

What remained of the creature's neck began gushing blood, covering Spike's face and chest. Spike swallowed, grateful for the nourishment but disgusted by the bitter taste of demonic blood. He plunged his hands into the gaping wound, separating it, and watched as the mass of blood and bone turned to dust.

Spike tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes, but managed only to spread blood over much of his face. He gagged and spit out a chunk of flesh. The taste was repulsive.

Then he smelled something wonderful. He looked over to another body that lie on the floor.

The girl wasn't dead.

She had lost a great deal of blood, and she was unconscious, and so pale that each vein on her body was clearly visible, but her stomach rose and fell slightly with an instinctive desire to live. As Spike watched, her breathing began to slow. Nothing short of turning her would save her, and he knew that wasn't an option. Even if his vampire child didn't try to prove herself evil by killing all of Spike's human acquaintances, she would surely get on his nerves. No, there was no saving her.

But that smell. That smell, with all its virtue and beauty, like a girl who had trusted everyone she met, who had made friends easily, who had loved her family and had to mourn their loss, who had seen evil, real evil, and yet managed to go on loving, go on trusting, and even found a place in her heart for that evil. Like a girl who could see a thousand violent deaths with her deep pure eyes, but when he looked into them, they radiated out nothing but beauty.

Spike knelt by the girl's side, tenderly brushed her hair back, and then sunk his teeth into the raw holes of her neck.

To Spike, sex was nothing compared to a drink like this. While he had once savored the blood of a powerful slayer, he'd also treasured the taste of a powerless young girl. Everything about them was present in their blood: ignorance and innocence in their limited experiences along with a deep adolescent sadness for minor tragedies, love so unconditional alongside hatred so simple and pure, passion for their tenuous beliefs, and blood so sweet it made him hard.

He bit further into the girl's neck, sucking out the last few drops of her delicious blood, his eyes rolling back in his head, his arms shaking as he clutched her body against his. When every last bit of her was drained dry, he let go abruptly. Her body hit the ground with a reverberating thud. He felt the sound rush through his body, and was sure that everyone in Sunnydale was looking down at the ground, wondering about the deafening boom that had come from below.

Spike stumbled and caught himself on the gritty tunnel wall. He could still feel her inside him. He wanted to pick up her dead body and drink from her more. Somewhere inside her there must still be a vein with a trace of blood left in it. Maybe the blood settled in the lower parts of her body when the other vampire had started drinking from her. Maybe he could still find a bit...

Spike was kneeling on the ground and untying the girl's shoelace before he realized it. As soon as he saw the small white sock, folded down on the girl's thin ankle, he started shaking, but this time not from pleasure. He let go of her foot, shuddered as her heel cracked against the ground, and walked away from her.

When he recognized the tunnel that would take him home, he broke into a run.

*

Dawn walked into the apartment and tossed her book bag on the couch.

It had been a miserable day at school. First, Jonie had spent all of Science Lab twirling her hair and talking to Steve. Then Dawn told Mandy that she liked Steve, and Mandy said that *she* had gone to the movies with Steve once last year. Since Mandy was the biggest skank ever, Dawn knew she must have kissed Steve at least once. It made her want to scream.

Dawn went into the refrigerator and pushed aside all the boring food that Spike bought for her. There was nothing good, and she was starving. The door to Spike's room was closed. Obviously, he thought he could just sleep all day and not feed her. She'd have to show him how very wrong he was.

Spike was lying sprawled across his bed, naked except for a sheet wrapped around his waist. Dawn stood in the doorway and watched his unmoving body. When she had first slept in the same bed as Spike, his lack of breathing and the coldness of his skin had startled her. It had been weird to curl up next to him and try to find comfort and love against a body that was technically dead. But she figured that weird love was better than no love at all. And she had needed something then, when she was so sad that most days she didn't even want to wake up, didn't even want to live, back then, in the time right after Buffy had....

Dawn pushed the thought away and walked around to the side of the bed. In a way, she wished she could do it still. Just put on her pajamas in the afternoon and crawl into bed with Spike. He wouldn't wake up completely, but he would notice her there, and put his arm around her. And if he heard her crying, or even just breathing heavily, he would kiss her on the forehead, and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. And then, when she woke up, he would already be awake, holding her in both her arms, and breathing, even though he didn't need to. She thought he didn't notice that he was breathing, he just did it without thinking about it, as if something about her could make him almost human.

But she couldn't lie in bed with Spike, even if she wanted to. Somehow it was just different now. Before, they had slept together in motels, when they were running, when they were afraid and had nowhere else to go. Now Spike had managed to become her guardian, and they had their own apartment, with their own bedrooms. Life wasn't terrifying anymore. 

Besides, Dawn was much too old to be afraid to sleep alone. She was 15 now, and about to have her first boyfriend and her first kiss. Well, kind of her first kiss. When Spike kissed her, that didn't count.

Dawn was pondering whether to wake Spike up by tickling him or dumping water on him when she noticed a brown bottle on his dresser. She walked to the dresser and picked it up. It was chocolate syrup. Her eyes narrowed with anger. It was obvious what had been going on in this bedroom.

Spike was hiding all the good food from her.

Dawn walked back to the side of the bed, clicked open the top of the bottle, and poured the chocolate syrup over Spike's naked torso. Spike responded to the cool sensation by twitching, and then waking slowly.

"What the bloody hell..." he mumbled. He touched his chest and examined his sticky chocolate fingers. He looked up at Dawn with sleepy eyes.

"What are you doing with this in your room?" Dawn said sternly, holding the bottle out.

Spike's eyes widened. "Where'd you find that?"

"On your dresser!"

Spike sat up in the bed, causing the chocolate to run down his body. "What are you doing in here?" he snapped.

"I know what you're up to!" Dawn shouted, her face contorted in anger.

Spike looked away from her, embarrassed. "It's not what you think. It's...it's..." he turned back to her and held his head up defiantly. "It's a *grown-up* thing, and it's none of your bloody business!"

Dawn put her hand on her hip. "It *is* my business if you're hiding food from me!"

Hearing this, Spike stifled a laugh.

"You think it's funny?" Dawn said. "You are *so mean* to me!" She stormed out of the room, taking the bottle of chocolate syrup with her.

Spike burst out laughing, until he realized that Dawn was actually upset. "Dawn!" he called out. "Dawn, come on!"

Spike stood up and pulled on a pair of jeans, cursing under his breath about how he'd have to wash chocolate off them later. He walked into the living room and saw Dawn picking up her book bag.

"Hey!" Spike called out. "Where do you think you're going?"

Dawn spun around, her hand on the door. "None of your business."

"The hell it isn't. You're going to see that bugger Steve, aren't you?"

"Maybe I am!" Dawn opened the door. "You can't stop me!"

Before the words left her mouth, Dawn felt heavy hands on her hips, and then she was lifted. The room tilted, and she found herself slung over Spike's shoulder. 

"Hey!" Dawn flailed her arms and legs, but her meager blows didn't deter Spike from carrying her across the apartment and into her bedroom, where he dumped her on her bed and slammed the door shut.

"Jerk!" Dawn shouted as she sat up and tried to straighten out her hair.

Spike stood over her, blocking her path to the door. The chocolate was still glistening on his chest. "Listen, little girl. Me and you are going to have a talk."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm not really going to leave." She stood up. "I'll just go watch TV."

Spike gently pushed her back into a sitting position. "You're involved with some pansy bugger at school, and it's making you bloody insane, so we're going to talk about it."

"I'm not involved with him," Dawn said. "He hasn't even asked me out yet."

"Shut up and listen." Dawn sat at the edge of the bed and watched Spike pace back and forth in front of her. "Boys are evil," he began.

"You should know," Dawn muttered.

Spike whirled around and pointed at her threateningly. "No talking!" He resumed his pacing and continued. "Boys are all knobby pillocks who want to get in your knickers. Your only thought should be to prevent this from happening. Because if you allow boys to touch you, you'll get syphilis and die. Understand?"

"No," Dawn said.

"Boys equals syphilis equals death," Spike explained. "It's a simple bloody concept."

"I mean no, you're wrong," Dawn said. "Syphilis doesn't cause death. It can be treated and cured."

"Since when?"

"Since 1929, when Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin," Dawn said.

Spike dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "Whatever. Also, boys can make you have little ugly babies."

"Not if you use a condom," Dawn said.

"What?" Spike looked down at her, confused. "You don't even know what you're talking about. See, this is what causes little girls to get into trouble. You learn these bloody lies on the streets."

"You don't even know what a condom is, do you?" Dawn challenged.

"A silly, made up word," Spike stated. "Now then, you see, girls have parts and boys have parts. And boys want to touch your parts with their parts."

"Are you talking about penetration?" Dawn asked.

"No, I'm talking about sex." Spike said. "Let's review. If boys touch you, you'll get pregnant and you'll get syphilis, and then you'll give birth to little rancid blind syphilitic babies, and then I'll kill you."

Dawn laughed. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I bloody well do!" Spike shouted.

"No you don't!" Dawn stood up and faced him boldly. "You don't need to tell me this stuff, Spike. I know everything about sex already."

Spike's face darkened with anger. "Who taught you? I'll kill them."

"School," Dawn said. "I took a whole class about it. We watched slides of genitals infected with STDs, we watched a movie about contraception, and we colored in diagrams of the male and female reproductive system."

Spike considered this. "What the bloody hell is STDs and conta...contra...?" 

Dawn muffled a laugh. "You wanna see my textbook?"

Spike nodded.

*

Since Willow and Tara had made plans to go the movies that evening, they offered to walk Jonathan home and put a protection spell on his house. As the darkness settled onto the Sunnydale landscape, painting the sky dark red, Willow reassured an insecure Jonathan that he would be safe at night without them.

"Just don't leave your house," she advised. "The protection spell will keep out everything, but it won't prevent you from walking outside. If you're outside, you're vulnerable, okay?"

"O-okay," Jonathan said, his voice shaky.

"And don't open the door, even if someone knocks," Tara added. "Just pretend you aren't home."

"We'll come back in the morning," Willow continued. "And we'll remove the barrier and let ourselves in, okay?"

"O-o-kay," Jonathan said.

A sudden scream made him jump. Willow and Tara turned towards the sound and saw a thin blond girl come stumbling down the street.

"Help me, help me!" the girl panted out.

"It's okay," Tara said. "We can help." The girl rushed up to them, nearly falling onto them.

"What is it? What's chasing you?" Willow asked.

"This guy," the girl said, looking over her shoulder, frightened. "He just walked up to me and grabbed my hand, and it felt like he was...I don't know...burning me." She turned to face the two witches. "I think I know you. UC Sunnydale?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, and we can help you. Do you live far from here?"

The girl nodded. "The other side of town. I was waiting for the bus." She noticed Jonathan and smiled. "Hey, I know you too. You're....you're on TV or something, right?"

Jonathan blushed.

"This thing, whatever it is," Tara told the girl. "It's after Jonathan too. We're going to put a type of barrier around his house that'll protect him for the night."

"Jonathan, of course." The girl's smile widened at the mention of his name. She held her hand out to him. "I'm Amanda."

"Hi," Jonathan said, nervously shaking her hand.

"I'd love to stay with Jonathan," Amanda told Tara. "It's pretty far to my house, and I live alone. But Jonathan can protect me."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Sure."

*

He drank from a human.

Spike tried to pay attention to what Dawn was saying. They were sitting on her bed cross-legged, with Dawn's Health textbook open in front of them. She was pointing at diagrams and explaining them in disturbing detail as Spike finished wiping chocolate syrup from his chest with tissues. It was actually interesting, but Spike couldn't push other thoughts out of his mind.

He sat beside her, this girl who he loved more than anything, so close that he could smell the strawberry shampoo she always used, and all he could think about was what had happened earlier in the sewers.

He drank from a human.

When he thought of how the girl in the sewers had tasted, he felt a sublime sensation, as if all his organs were contracting and releasing at once. And he wanted to touch the girl who sat beside him now, to share this feeling with her, because somehow, it was all about her. 

He drank from a human who reminded him of Dawn.

It was that simple. The girl in the sewers had looked like her, smelled like her, and tasted as delectable as he imagined she was.

He knew he was in love with her. He'd accepted that after the night when she'd slept in his arms and he found himself so comfortable, so unnaturally at peace that he'd started breathing unconsciously. He would kill for her. He already had. And he was fully prepared to die for her if he had to.

But now, after drinking from a human for the first time in nearly a year, he felt that love turning into something else. It wasn't enough to be sitting next to her, even hugging her, loving her, protecting her. He wanted to be closer, so close that she was swallowed whole within him.

He wanted to kill her.

"You're not paying attention!" Dawn's whine broke through his thoughts. She was pointing at a disgusting full-color picture that depicted a woman giving birth.

Spike looked down at the book and shuddered. "Nibblet, I think I've learned more than I ever wanted to know."

Dawn smiled. "Good." She slammed the book shut and hopped off the bed. "Now if you don't mind, it's almost eight, and if I miss Dawson's Creek, I'll probably die." She turned on her heel, her thick hair spinning, and walked towards the living room.

Spike's face lit up. "Dawson's Creek is on?" He hurried after her.

*

Amanda pushed her long blond hair over her shoulder and gazed across the couch at Jonathan.

"So how come you never made any more movies?" she asked him, then immediately chuckled. "Well, I guess you have enough money as it is, right?"

Jonathan looked down at the floor. "Um...actually...that was all -- "

"And it must've been hard," Amanda continued. "To have so many fans chasing after you." She slid closer to him. "I was a big fan, Jonathan."

"Um...Amanda," Jonathan's voice caught in his throat and he coughed. "Amanda, all that...it wasn't real."

"What do you mean?" she asked, inching even closer.

"It was a spell," he explained. "I did a spell to make myself more popular." He felt her hand on his thigh and his leg started shaking involuntarily. "Most people forgot about me once the spell was broken."

"Shhhhh," Amanda said, running her other hand through his hair. "Mmmmm, you're like one of those reclusive movie stars who starts going insane." Her lips brushed against his ear. "But don't worry, Jonathan. Even if everyone forgets about your work, I'll still be your biggest fan."

Amanda kissed him, and Jonathan forgot his uneasiness in an instant. Her hands ran down his back and her breasts pressed against his chest. Jonathan leaned into her, craving more, and allowed her to kiss him so deeply that his lips seemed to burn.

Amanda pulled back. "Can we go into your bedroom?" she asked.

Jonathan groaned in response, and Amanda led the way.

She straddled him on his twin-sized bed, pausing in her fierce kisses only to remove their clothing. Jonathan's uncontrollable moaning heightened as Amanda rocked on top of him.

She was so hot he felt like he was on fire.

And then he felt like he was *really* on fire.

Jonathan screamed as he felt the pain radiating out from where their hips met. Her hands felt like they were leaving scorch marks on his chest . He looked up at Amanda, and she was smiling wickedly.

"It's you!" Jonathan choked out, and then he couldn't see anymore.

Amanda climbed off of his body as soon as it went limp. She stretched and squealed with happiness.

"Damn, I was hungry." 

TBC


	3. Mirror

Part Three: Mirror

Halfway through the movie, Willow gasped and put her hand to her head.

"Honey, are you all right?" Tara whispered. She placed her hand on her girlfriend's shoulder and felt it shaking.

Willow took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You wanna go?"

She shook her head. "No, I think...I think it's okay for now. But after the movie, we have to go somewhere."

"Where?" Tara asked.

"To talk to Spike."

*

"No, no, absolutely not," Dawn said. "She's all wrong for him. He still treats her like they're little kids, like he's not willing to accept that she's an adult now and can make her own decisions."

"Rot," Spike said. "Dawson and Joey belong together."

Dawn sighed as she grabbed a piece of microwave popcorn out of the bowl and popped it in her mouth. "They belong together?" she said. "That's your entire argument?"

"Yep."

"Well....it sucks."

Spike grabbed a handful of popcorn. "Yep." He looked at the clock above the television. "Got homework?"

Dawn sighed. "Yeah, but it's not *real* homework."

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. "Invisible homework?"

Dawn pulled her book bag up from where it had fallen on the floor and began to rummage around in it. "It's for my Honors English class. We have to pick a poem we like out of the British Poetry book, and then tomorrow in class we have to read it out loud and explain what it means and why we like it."

"Doesn't sound too hard."

Dawn placed the book on her lap and began to flip through it. "I know, but all these poems suck."

Spike held out his hand. "Give it here."

Spike took the book and opened to the table of contents. He scanned the list quickly, his mouth twisted with concentration, until he found a name he approved of. He turned to a page and gestured for Dawn to move closer.

She sat next to him, the book spread over both their laps, her thigh pressed up against his, her strawberry-scented hair teasing his senses. He tried to concentrate on the text in front of him. He pointed to the short prose piece. "Read this."

Dawn followed his finger and then began to read aloud:

"The Disciple. By Oscar Wilde.

"When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it comfort.

"And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of their hair and cried to the pool and said, `We do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was he.'

"`But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.

"`Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. `Us did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own beauty.'

"And the pool answered, `But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored.'"

Spike savored the words, even as Dawn's musical voice stumbled in her pronunciation of the names. He remembered when he had first heard this poem. In a large and elegantly decorated hotel room in London, in soft words so as not to disturb Alfred in the next bed, Oscar Wilde had read it to him, and William the Bloody had proclaimed it to be pillocks.

But that was over a hundred years ago, before he had met someone like Dawn, and the poem suddenly made sense.

"I don't get it," Dawn said.

"Narcissus is a character from mythology," Spike explained. "And supposedly he was the most beautiful man who ever lived, or some such rot."

Dawn turned her face up to look at Spike.

"And in the poem," Spike continued. "Narcissus died and all the Oreads - they're these little elfin buggers - they were all broken up about it."

"Because he was so beautiful?" Dawn said softly, her wide eyes still fixed on Spike's face.

"Yeah," Spike said. "But the lake said that it didn't love Narcissus because he was beautiful, didn't even notice the bloke's looks, even though the lake is what he used for a mirror." Spike felt her eyes on him and turned to meet them. He was startled to see the reflection of the television and the floor lamp in the deep pools of her eyes, and yet he couldn't see himself. It struck him as odd that, in over a century of being a vampire, he'd never noticed this absence in anyone else's eyes. But maybe he just hadn't been looking close enough.

"The lake said," Spike continued. "That when Narcissus looked into it, it didn't see *his* beauty. It saw the reflection of its own beauty. And that, to the river, was real love."

Dawn's full lips parted, as if she was about to speak, and then slowly closed.

Spike couldn't look away from her eyes. 

A sudden knock shook them both from their brief trance.

"Spike, it's me," came Willow's voice through the door.

"Willow!" Dawn leapt off the couch and opened the door, revealing an uncharacteristically melancholy Willow. Her mouth turned up in a forced smile, but her eyes betrayed her unhappiness.

"Hey, Dawnie," Willow said, stepping into the apartment. "I'm sorry, but I really can't stay long. Tara's waiting for me down at the Espresso Pump. I just need to talk to Spike for a minute about some uh...demon stuff."

Spike stood up. "Outside?"

"It's okay; stay here," Dawn told them. She picked up her book. "I'm gonna go in my room and make some notes for tomorrow."

When Dawn had left them alone, Spike sank back down onto the couch and gestured to the kitchen. "Got some sodas and snacks if you want, Red."

Willow remained standing. "I know what happened," she said flatly.

"With what?" Spike mumbled, his eyes on the television.

"The girl in the sewer."

Spike blinked. "You saw my dream?"

"Dream?" Willow asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. I came home after I saw you and the other witch, fell asleep, and had this dream that I killed a girl." He shook his head sadly as he reached into the bowl and tossed a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

"It...it was a dream?" Willow asked, her voice faltering.

"Bloody nightmare is more like it," Spike replied. "For a minute I even thought the girl looked like..." he gestured towards Dawn's bedroom with his head. 

"Oh," Willow said. "I just...I mean, I was pretty sure I couldn't read people's dreams...But then, this telepathy is pretty new to me..."

"No problem," Spike said. He held out the bowl. "Popcorn?"

The next thing Spike knew, there was a shooting pain through his back and head, and he was lying on the floor at the other end of the living room. He immediately tried to get up, but some invisible force was holding him down. As his eyes focused, he saw Willow standing above him.

"Bloody hell...."

"Listen," Willow said, her voice seeming deeper than usual. "What I'm doing right now is easy for me. If I needed to, I could kill you from miles away, with just a thought. It would probably leave me unconscious, and it would hurt like hell for a few days after that, and I would most likely end up owing some dark spirits, who would torture me for much of my life. But you know what? It would be worth it." She leaned down closer to him. "If I ever hear you think about hurting Dawn, it'll be the last thought you have."

Willow took a step back, and the force field was lifted. Spike leaned up on his elbows, his head still spinning. 

Willow smiled, her cheerful persona returning. "Okay?" she chirped. "Tell Dawn I'll call her this weekend." 

By the time Spike was able to stand up, she was gone.

*

Spike tapped on the door to Dawn's bedroom, and it swung open slightly, revealing the darkness inside.

"You asleep?" he asked.

"Almost," came her drowsy reply. "Are you going out on patrol?"

"I don't have to," he said. "I could stay here...if you needed me."

"No, I'm fine." He heard her shift in her bed and her words became muffled by her pillows. "Everything's fine."

Spike traced his finger down the wood grain of the door. "All right then. Goodnight."

Dawn hummed incoherently in response.

Spike stood by the door a moment longer, until he heard her breathing become slow and steady, and then he put on his coat.

*

Laurie walked behind the counter at the Espresso Pump and took off her apron.

"Shift's over, thank God," she groaned. She turned to the girl standing at the register. "Hey Jill, you get off now?"

"In an hour." Jill replied.

"Want me to wait for you?" Laurie offered. "We could go hang out or something."

Jill shook her head. "I got an early class tomorrow." She spun around and looked at her dark-haired friend questioningly. "Since when do you have no social life? What about Percy?"

Laurie rolled her eyes. "It's over. Completely over."

Jill gasped. "You're kidding!"

"Last weekend we were at the Bronze," Laurie explained. "And some guy grabbed my ass. Percy saw it and he didn't even do anything."

"What did you want him to do? Start a fight?"

"He wouldn't have to start a fight," Laurie said. "But he at least could have said something to the guy." She shook her head sadly. "I guess I looked at Percy like he was Mr. Big-Tough-Sports-Hero, but he's really not. Plus-" She leaned closer to Jill and lowered her voice. "I heard that one time in high school some girl kicked his ass, right in front of everyone, at the Bronze."

"No way!" Jill giggled.

Laurie picked up her purse. "So that's it, he's history."

"But you guys have been together for so long," Jill whined.

Laurie shrugged. "I guess it's just time to move on. See you tomorrow night."

Laurie lived only a mile away from The Espresso Pump, but the walk home each night always made her jumpy. She arranged her purse with the strap hanging across her chest, so that no one could steal it, and held her keys in her hand.

She turned the corner to where the streetlights were dimmer and the street was deserted. As she moved further from the crowds of the coffee house, she began to notice footsteps behind her.

She looked over her shoulder. A man was walking down the street holding a brown paper Espresso Pump bag. She relaxed. It was just a man coming back from the store. No threat in that.

Until he dropped the bag and started chasing her.

Laurie took off down the street. If she could just make it two more blocks there would be houses, and she could --

The man caught up with her in a moment. Her grabbed her around her waist and pulled her roughly to a stop. His other arm snaked across her chest. She tried to struggle, but his grip felt like iron.

"Let go of me!" Lorie shouted. "Help!"

The man chuckled as she continued to scream. She turned to look at him and was shocked into silence. His face was distorted, his forehead covered in ridges, his eyes narrow and red. 

"Oh my God," Laurie whispered.

The man opened his mouth, baring two pointed teeth, and leaned into her neck. Laurie closed her eyes and waited for the pain

Instead, she only heard the man groan, and felt his arms go limp and release her. She opened her eyes to see him falling to the ground, clutching his head.

A man in a long black coat had hit him. As she watched, he kicked her attacker, keeping him on his back, straddled him, punched him in the face several times, and then stabbed him in the chest with something that looked like wood. And then the man was gone.

Spike turned to the dark-haired girl, who was standing completely still except for a slight trembling. 

"Holy shit," the girl said, barely louder than a breath. She looked up at Spike and smiled. "I thought that guy was gonna kill me. Thanks."

"No problem," Spike said. He turned to leave. It was his first vampire of the night, which was slow by Sunnydale standards. At this rate he could go home early and get some sleep before he had to wake Dawn up for school.

"Wait!" Laurie took a step forward and held out her hand in an attempt to keep the man from walking away. He stopped and turned back towards her. 

Laurie smiled. "I - I don't think I've seen you around before. Do you go to UC Sunnydale?"

The man smiled, as if he found her question funny. She wondered if he was a lot older than her. She studied his face, but it seemed smooth and young.

"You totally just saved my life," Laurie said with a nervous chuckle. "I guess the least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee."

Spike took a cigarette out of his pocket. "I have to get home."

Laurie smiled and took a step closer to him. "You *have* to?"

Spike lit the cigarette, the flame momentarily contorting his face with its orange glow. "Got a girl waiting for me."

"Oh," Laurie said. She looked down the street, where she could see the intersection that led to her parents' house. "Well...thanks again." She began walking towards the warm lights of her neighborhood. When she looked over her shoulder, the man was gone.

*

"Hear, hear my plea. Circling arm protecting me."

The near-invisible shield around Jonathan's house responded to Willow's words, sparkling slightly as it reflected the early-morning light, and then disappeared. Willow allowed herself a small proud smile as she and Tara walked through the front door.

"Jonathan!" Tara called out. "So what did you talk to Spike about last night?" she asked Willow.

Willow chewed on her lower lip, hesitating. "I think...I think he might have feelings for Dawn."

Tara's eyes widened. "Like...skeevy feelings?"

"All feelings that come from Spike contain a certain amount of skeeviness," Willow explained. "But it's not a sex thing. He loves Dawn, it's just that vampires show love a lot differently than people do." She looked up the stairway and sighed impatiently. "Jonathan! Come on!"

"How do vampires show love?" Tara wondered.

"Oh, you know," Willow said. "They hurt each other and torture each other and drink each other's blood." She noticed Tara's panicked expression and quickly added: "But Dawn's safe. And as soon as she's not safe, I'll know."

"What's taking him so long?" Tara looked up the stairs with irritation, and then a dark look crossed her face. "You don't think something --"

They hurried up the stairs.

*

It was hell.

Horrible, fiery, burning hell. Pain and suffering worse that anything she could have imagined. Torture beyond words.

Gym class.

"Thank God that's over with," Dawn said to her friend Sharon as they walked into the locker room. "If I have to do one more chin-up, my arms are gonna fall off."

"I think my wrists are gonna break like, right in half," Sharon said.

"Coach Foster is a total masochist," Dawn said. She opened her locker and took out her book bag. 

"Hey, where's Mandy?" Sharon asked.

Dawn glared at the locker next to hers, where Mandy would normally be standing and talking proudly about some boy she'd kissed. "I don't know," she said. And don't care either, she thought.

"We should bring her books to her house or something," Sharon suggested. 

Dawn shrugged. "If you want to. I'll probably be busy after school."

Sharon began fumbling with the lock on Mandy's locker. "Oh, I always forget if her's is 32-14-38 or 38-14-32."

Dawn sighed and slammed her locker shut. Sharon was taking way too long, and they were going to be late for their next class. Mandy wasn't even there today, but it was like she was still finding a way to annoy Dawn.

"I think it's 38-14-22," Dawn said. "Here, let me try."

Dawn stepped in front of her friend and twirled the combination lock. In a moment the lock clicked, and Dawn pulled the door open.

And Mandy fell out of the locker.

TBC


	4. Energy

Part Four: Energy

Spike was woken by a frantic pounding on the door. He rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. One o'clock. He'd only been asleep for five hours. The buggers at the door would have to wait.

But as soon as he closed his eyes the pounding became louder. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he rolled out of bed.

He shuffled across the living room and to the apartment door, thinking that if he was faced with a girl scout selling cookies, it would take great restraint on his part to not eat her.

When he opened the door and saw the two witches, he immediately took a step back, changed into this vamp face, and hissed at them. 

Willow and Tara barely responded to his animalistic reaction. Their faces were long, and their eyes blank. They reminded Spike of the people he'd eaten after World War II. Even the victorious Allies seemed unenthused that the war was won: they were just relieved it was over. For years he could just pick them off as they walked around, dazed. He smiled at the memory, and then turned his attention back to his visitors.

"What?" Spike said. "Did you come here to turn me into a horny toad or are you just gonna stand there?"

"Jonathan's dead," Willow said flatly.

Spike's face changed back to its human form. "It wasn't me."

"It was the Enoispep," Tara said. "Also, you're naked."

"I am?" Spike looked down at his body, and realized that in his exhaustion he had forgotten to pull on pants when he had gotten out of bed. "So I am." He shrugged and sat down on the couch. "Don't suppose either of you birds might be tempted...?"

Willow and Tara ignored the naked vampire as they walked inside the apartment and closed the door behind them. "I put a shield around his house," Willow said. "And I would know if something got past it. Nothing did."

"Maybe the bugger killed himself," Spike said. "He seems the type."

"A girl stayed with him last night," Tara told him.

"He doesn't seem the type for that," Spike muttered.

"We think it was the Enoispep," Willow continued. "It changed form into a woman so that it could get close enough to Jonathan to touch him and kill him. We think...we think she seduced him."

Tara blushed. "When we found him, he was naked."

Spike shuddered. "Thanks for the visual."

"Here's another weird thing," Tara said. "When spells are cast, they leave a trace signature. We checked Jonathan's house, but a spell hadn't been cast there, other than our shield. So this demon isn't using magic to change its appearance."

"So magic won't be able to reveal the demon," Spike concluded.

Willow shook her head. "The only way we'll be able to find the demon is to see it try to hurt someone."

"Even then," Tara added. "We don't know how to kill it."

"But we have a plan." Willow said. 

Before she could begin, she was interrupted by the telephone ringing. Spike grabbed the cordless phone from where it lay on the couch and answered it with a gruff: "Yeah, what?"

"Mr. Summers?" the voice on the other end of the line said.

Spike's body suddenly felt colder than usual. William Summers was the name he'd used on his fake ID, to get custody of --

"Dawn." he said into the phone. "Dawn, is she okay?"

"She's fine," the woman on the phone said. "But there was an incident in school. A friend of hers was killed."

"I'll be right there," Spike said. He slammed down the phone and turned to two witches, explaining the situation as he put on his jacket. "She's fine," he said, and their troubled faces relaxed. "But her friend was killed. I have to go get her."

"Spike --" Willow began.

"I have to go get her!" he shouted as he rushed out the door.

A moment later he shamefacedly walked back inside the apartment and into his bedroom, where he put on a pair of pants and a dusty black t-shirt.

*

"I'm fine!" Dawn said, a little louder than she should have. All eyes in the guidance counselors' office were on her briefly, looking to see what she was shouting about. "I'm fine," she repeated softly. "Can I just go to English now? I've got an assignment due."

The elderly guidance counselor shook her head. "I just spoke with your cousin. He's coming to pick you up."

"But I don't want to go home!" Dawn whined, attracting unwanted attention once again. The guidance counselor walked out of the room without even acknowledging Dawn.

Dawn sighed and leaned back in her chair. So Mandy was dead. Big deal. Lots of people were dead. It didn't mean she had to miss English.

"Hey Dawn."

Dawn looked up and the scowl was immediately wiped off her face. She smiled widely at the baby-faced teenage boy that looked down at her.

"Hi Steve."

"Hi," Steve said softly. Dawn was always taken in most by his eyes. They were a dusty blue, and it reminded Dawn of when she was a little kid and her dad would take her to the beach. It was a special thing they did together each summer, at least one trip to the beach without the rest of the family. One year it had stormed during their outing, and they stood in the doorway of a store on the boardwalk, her dad holding her in his arms, watching the ocean beat against the sand. Steve's eyes looked like the ocean during that storm. She was sure that no one on Earth had eyes like that, except Steve.

Steve looked down at his shoes, as if unsure how to continue. "I was just..." He looked back at Dawn, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of those eyes. "I was just wondering if you were okay. I mean, I'm sure you're sick of people making a big deal..."

"No, I'm not," Dawn said quickly. "Well, I am but...I'm really just sick of the guidance counselors."

"I know," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "Once a teacher heard me say that I hated my life, and they interrogated me for like, three days."

Dawn chuckled. "I know. They're all thinking I'm gonna go nuts over what happened today. I mean, it bothers me, yeah. Mandy was my friend. But it's not major trauma or anything. I've seen dead bodies before." I even live with one, Dawn thought.

"Oh, yeah," Steve said, his smile fading. "Your sister, right?"

"Yeah," Dawn said softly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up --"

"No, it's okay," Dawn said quickly. "I don't mind talking about it."

"I heard it was some freak accident."

"It wasn't an accident," Dawn said, her voice taking on an edge she didn't intend. "She saved my life. She saved everyone. She's a hero."

"I - I'm sorry," Steve said. He took a step backwards, edging towards the door. "I didn't mean to --"

"No!" Dawn stood up. "*I'm* sorry. That was totally rude."

"I shouldn't have asked," Steve said, casting his eyes down again.

"It's okay, really," Dawn told him. She held out her hand and gently brushed her fingers against his arm. At first she thought the touch was too soft for him to notice, but he responded immediately, his eyes brightening with a tiny smile as they met hers.

It occurred to her that she could kiss him. Right then, right in the guidance counselor's office, in front of everyone. Kids in her school kissed in the hallway all the time, and no one even noticed. And Steve probably wanted to kiss her too. He came here to check up on her; he wouldn't have done that if he didn't like her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by something with supernatural strength grabbing her arm.

"Dawn! Are you okay?" Spike crushed his body against hers in an awkward hug.

"Ow!" Dawn try to pull out of his grip, but he was too strong. "Get off of me!" She wriggled downward, sliding out of his arms. When she was free, she expressed her distaste with a weak slap to his chest.

"Bloody hell, girl," he responded. "What's your problem?" Then he noticed the little pansy-ass bugger standing in front of them. 

"Hi," he said. "You must be Dawn's cousin. I'm Steve." He held his hand out.

A low growl came from deep within Spike's throat.

"Don't pay any attention to him," Dawn said, putting her body between them. "He has mental problems. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya," Steve said, as Dawn ushered Spike out the door.

When they were out in the hallway, Dawn hurried ahead of Spike, towards the school's main entrance.

"Christ, Nibblet. Where you running off to?"

Dawn spun around, exposing a gentle face twisted with anger. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" she shouted.

Spike stopped walking, momentarily shocked by her explosion. "Take a bloody Midol! What's wrong with you?"

"You were hugging and growling in front of the guy I like!"

"Is that what this is about?" Spike chuckled. "That pansy Backstreet Boy? He's a wanker. And lucky I didn't gouge his eyes out when he looked at you."

Dawn put her hands to her head in frustration. "Why do you have to be such a jerk?"

"Why do you have to be such a moody little bint?" Spike snapped. "At least I have an excuse. I'm a demon."

"Yeah, I think I realized that when I saw you kill my sister," Dawn said, her voice bitter and her eyes wet.

Spike opened his mouth to reply, but then quickly shut it. It was the first time Dawn had mentioned what had happened last summer. Buffy had come back from the dead, resurrected and driven insane by the First Evil, intent on killing all of her friends, and especially Dawn. When Spike battled Buffy to the death it had nearly torn him apart. The only thing that had kept him alive was the thought of Dawn, who now stood just inside the school entrance, her lower lip trembling with the effort it took to hold back her sobs. 

"Dawn..." Spike didn't know what he could say that might comfort her, but he knew he had to say something. He took a step towards her. "Dawn, let's go home."

"No," Dawn said softly, the single syllable catching in her throat.

Spike held out his hand. "Dawn --"

"No!" Dawn shrieked. She scurried backwards, through the entranceway and onto the front steps of the school. Her large eyes narrowed to shield themselves from the midday sun, spilling glistening tears down her cheeks.

Spike remained in the shade of the building, watching her. Though he was cognizant 

of each strand of her hair, highlighted red and blond by the sun, the daytime light didn't scare him. He knew he was strong enough to dash outside, grab her, and drag her indoors without getting too badly burned. For a moment he almost did. But the look in her eyes -- those huge eyes that had been haunting him since the first time he saw them, six years ago -- froze him to where he stood. He could see it in her eyes.

She hated him.

When he'd first met her, hiding under a desk in Sunnydale High School during Parent-Teacher night, he'd spared her life because of those eyes. The next time he saw her was in the Summers home, crouched on the top of the stairs, her eyes seemingly bigger than the rest of her eleven year-old body. He'd looked past Buffy as they argued about Angel, met her eyes, and smiled. Dawn had smiled back. What Spike had seen as an unconscious gesture, Buffy took as a threat, and she ranted on about how much she'd kill him if he ever came near her family again.

But Spike had been near Dawn many times since then, and he'd put his life on the line more than once. He'd gotten an apartment, killed his own kind to hock their valuables, left behind every trace of what he'd once been, and focused all his energy on taking care of her. Hell, he even learned to *cook*. And yet, she hated him.

He loved her, and she hated him. It was becoming the recurring theme of his life.

"Come back inside," Spike said. "I'll fix this."

"How?" Dawn challenged.

When Spike couldn't reply, she exhaled irritably. "Stay away from me," she said. She turned, ran down the steps, and disappeared around the corner of the building.

*

"The old bait and switch," Willow explained. "Except not so much 'bait' as 'willing victim'."

"And not so much 'switch'," Tara added. "As 'hydrochloric acid'."

From where they were sitting at the table in the Magic Shop, Xander and Anya exchanged puzzled looks. Anya smiled up at Tara. "Did you get your brain sucked again?"

"It's our plan for defeating the Enoispep demon," Willow continued. "We hang around town, posing as lonely people, and wait to see if someone approaches us. If they touch us, and it burns, like Jonathan said this demon does, we attack."

"But since we don't know how to kill an Enoispep demon," Tara said. "We use these." She gestured to four glass bottles filled with a substance that looked like water. 

"Hydrochloric acid?" Xander asked.

Willow nodded. "It'll hurt anything, demon or not. We'll split out, comb the town, and then meet back here. Then we need to look into what happened at Dawn's school today."

"What happened at Dawn's school today?" Anya asked.

"A friend of hers was killed and stuffed in a locker," Willow explained.

"Why does that sound familiar?" Xander wondered.

"So we'll check out the school and examine the body at the morgue," Willow continued.

"That's right," Xander said. "We live in Sunnydale. We spend our evenings in morgues."

"Let's get started," Willow said. "Xander, you take the east side of town. Anya, the west." They stood up and collected their bottles from Willow. "Tara will go north, and I'll go south." As Willow held a bottle out to Tara, her hand began to shake.

"Willow, what is it?" Tara put her arm around her.

Willow closed her eyes. "Spike. Something's wrong. It's Dawn."

"Is Dawn okay?" Xander asked.

Willow swallowed hard and nodded. "She ran away from him. She's angry. Spike, what's going on?" She seemed to be listening to him, and then she winced.

"What's he doing?" Tara asked.

Willow opened her eyes. "Swearing and punching a wall. He won't be able to help us."

"So has this been changed from a demon-search to a Dawn-search?" Xander suggested.

"We can do both," Willow said as she headed to the door. "Let's go. We'll meet back here in two hours."

*

When the blood coming from his hands reached his elbows, Spike stopped punching the wall.

He had managed to get from the high school to the tunnels beneath it before the full weight of the situation came down on him, causing what was now a formidable hole in the brick wall of the tunnel. It would probably cause the wall to collapse sometime in the next few days. He looked up and listened to the noises coming from aboveground. It sounded like cars. His brief act of destruction could cause the street could cave in, possibly while cars were driving over it. People could die.

The thought made Spike feel a little better.

The loss of blood, however, did little to improve his mood. He would have to feed sometime soon.

The idea of finding some random vampire to kill and drain made his stomach churn. He was tired of feeding off demons. Their blood was stale and dirty. It was like a human craving milk being presented with a glass of swamp water.

He remembered the girl he drank from the night before. She was delicious. He'd only gotten a small amount of her blood, but it had been like chocolate to a starving man. 

Of course, he could always have more. Nothing was stopping him. He'd been without a behavior-modification chip for nearly a year. The only thing that had kept him from feeding off humans was having to care for Dawn. And in a strange way, out of respect for Buffy.

But Buffy was dead. And Dawn was gone.

And Spike was hungry.

*

Willow sat at a table in the Bronze, trying to look like a victim and look for Dawn at the same time. After a half hour of listening to some horrible band play and watching a horde of young, happy-looking people dance, oblivious to its suckiness, she'd had enough. She stood up to leave, and abruptly crashed into a woman.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Willow said.

The woman tossed Willow a dark look. "Watch it," she snapped.

"I *said* I was sorry!" Willow shouted over the din of the music. Then she noticed something familiar about the girl's dark hair and sad lips. "Hey, do I know you?"

Laurie looked over the redhead's clothes, a tacky assortment of vintage-store junk. "I don't think so," she said, making it clear from her tone that their conversation was over.

She pushed through the crowd impatiently to get to the door. It was still early in the evening, but it had already been a terrible night. Jill had set her up on a blind date with a guy who she swore was hot, but who turned out to be a 19 year-old geek. It had taken her an hour to get rid of him. Now all she wanted to do was go home and take a shower. It was obviously impossible to meet a hot, single guy in Sunnydale. They all ended up either gay, taken, or dying a mysterious death.

She pushed herself against the door and was greeted by the cool night air. It felt good after being surrounded by sweaty losers and cigarette smoke. She ran her fingers through her tangly hair. She felt disgusting.

Until she saw a man standing opposite the entrance to the Bronze, leaning against a wall and looking too gorgeous to be real.

He was tall, six-foot-four at least, and built like a football player, with huge shoulders and arms. His hair was dark and soft-looking, and his skin begged to be touched. As she stared at him, he noticed her and smiled.

"Excuse me," he said, and his voice was a deep and sexy as his eyes. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Um...I..." Laurie cleared her throat and tried to remain focused. "I don't have a watch, but last time I checked it was around six."

"Thanks," the man said. "Don't tell me you're going home this early."

"Oh! No, no, not at all." Laurie said. She smiled widely and batted her dark eyelashes. "It was just getting so stuffy in there. I was going to take a walk around the block."

"Mind if I join you?" the man asked. 

Laurie stifled a squeal. "I'd love it."

*

Spike smelled the girl before he saw her.

He could tell from her scent that she wasn't an ordinary girl. She was stronger than most. She had triumphed over a great loss at some point in her life. But recently she had been isolated and alone. She was walking by herself now, drowning her sorrows in an ice cream cone, her life seeming strange and alien to her.

Spike's tongue slipped out between his teeth as he smiled. She would be easy pickings.

He walked up behind her. If she could hear his footsteps, she didn't let on. She continued her slow pace through the dark side street, absent-mindedly licking her ice cream, until Spike's powerful arm grabbed her around her chest and swiftly brought her young neck up to his mouth.

But instead of screaming, like Spike had been hoping she would, the girl only shouted, "Abduco!"

In an instant Spike was flat on his back on the concrete, with a bleeding wound at the back of his head and chocolate ice cream down his shirt.

The girl stood over him, her arms folded across her chest, glaring down at the injured vampire. "I am so *sick* of all the vampires around here!" she shouted.

Spike look up at her dazed for a moment, and unsure of what she had just done to him. "What the -- Argh!" he growled with realization. "Bloody hell! *I'm* sick of all you *sodding witches*!"

"I hate this town," the girl whined. "I should have just stayed a rat."

By the time Spike had managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, the witch had stormed off. He took his shirt off and tried to use it to wipe the ice cream from his chest, but quickly gave up.

He tossed his shirt aside and sat there, motionless, thinking about what had just happened. A girl - his *victim* - had beat him, humiliated him, and left him in a heap of blood and dairy. He was hungry, he was cold, he was sticky, and he was alone. 

Just when I figured I hit rock bottom, Spike thought, ends up the bottom wasn't rock so much as six feet of mud for me to sink through. Bollocks.

"What does bollocks mean?" he heard. "I've always wondered that."

Spike looked around, noticed that no one was there, and groaned. "You don't want to know, Red."

"Hey," the voice in his head responded. "I'm not 17 anymore, you know."

Spike chuckled sadly, almost silently. "And I'm not a 120 anymore. So what are you up to, witch?"

"Not much," Willow said.

"No quality time with the Scoobies?"

"Nope."

"So where are you?" Spike asked.

"Right here."

Spike turned her head to see Willow rounding the corner and heading towards him. 

He briefly considered running away. If she had been listening in to his brain for a while, she probably knew he'd tried to kill someone. But he was too tired and hurt to move. He'd had enough of moving. From now on, he decided, he would alternate all his time between sleeping and drinking large quantities of alcohol.

"So...." Willow said when she walked up to his prone form. She hugged her fuzzy jacket close and took in a deep breath of the chilly air. "Nice night, huh?"

Spike put his hand to the back of his head to check the damage. When he looked at it, it was bright red. "Yeah. Just great."

"Yep," Willow said. She smiled down at Spike cheerfully. "So, are we killing humans now?"

Spike raised one eyebrow at her. "If I say yes, will you do some nasty little spell on me? Put my privates on the inside of my body or some such rot?"

"Hey," Willow said, her distinctive pout quelling Spike's fear. "*Some* people like their privates on the inside." Her look softened and she held her hand out. "Come on, I'm meeting everyone else at the Magic Shop."

Spike tilted his head down and looked up at Willow doubtfully. "Red, I just got my ass kicked by a mortal girl. For the second time in as many days. I don't much feel like being around others, unless you'll allow me to eat them without turning me into a goat."

"Come on," Willow said, smiling. "If you're good, I'll buy you some goat's blood."

Spike pushed himself up off the ground. "Just stake me now."

*

Normally, Laurie wasn't the type of girl to put out on the first date. But this guy was worth it.

They had walked around Sunnydale for an hour, talking about anything and everything. And first Laurie thought she was being too chatty, but he was just such a good listener and a patient man, not to mention that body. When they arrived at her dorm, she invited him in.

Before long they were on her bed, kissing and clawing at each other's clothes.

"I don't usually do this sort of thing," Laurie said breathlessly.

"Really?" the man said. His bare chest pressed against hers as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I do it all the time."

Before Laurie had a chance to ask him what he meant by that, his mouth covered hers. But instead of feeling good, it hurt. It burned. She tried to pull away, but the burning was quickly spreading over her chest and arms. Wherever his body touched hers, it sent a scortching pain through her, draining her strength, catching her breath, and making her vision go dark.

*

Spike sat at the table in the Magic Shop, smoking a cigarette and looking bored.

"We should check the Bronze," Xander suggested. "It's still the cool hang-out for all the high school kids, right?"

Willow shook her head. "I was just there, and I didn't see her."

"The Espresso Pump?" Xander added.

"That was my area," Tara told him. "No luck."

"Not at the movie theater, the school, or the hospital," Anya said.

"And I checked all the graveyards," Xander said. "No demon and no Dawn."

A worried look clouded Willow's face. "What if Dawn ran away, like, *really* away?" she said. "We didn't check the bus station, the airport, the train station, or the docks."

"For such a small town," Xander said. "Sunnydale sure has a lot of ways to get out of it."

Willow looked to Spike. "We should go check those places."

Spike tossed his cigarette to the floor absentmindedly. "Doesn't matter," he muttered.

"Nice legal guardian you are," Xander snapped.

"She doesn't want to be found by me," Spike argued. "So you and the rest of the wanking patrol can go on your merry way. I'll hunt the demon."

"Fine," Willow said. "We'll split up and check all the transporty places, and you patrol."

Spike sighed. "You haven't even told me anything about this sodding demon."

"I told you all we know," Willow said defensively. She picked up a book off the stack in the center of the table and opened it. "There's only a paragraph here on the Enoispep demon. See? 'Little is known about the Enoispep, since sightings of the creature are rare. An Enoispep is a demon who was once mortal, raised from the dead, who sustains its life by feeding off the lives of others. This demon can destroy anything mortal or demonic with an extended touch.'"

"Like a vampire," Anya said. "Only...you know...not."

Spike stood up so quickly that his chair was knocked over. The others watched as he towered over them, glowering.

"Have I told you lot lately how incredibly stupid you are?"

Xander shook his head. "It's been a few months, at least."

"What are you talking about?" Willow said.

Spike pointed at the open book in her hands. "A demon, like a vampire, that feeds on people, right?"

"I...I guess so," Willow said. "Yeah, it says that's how it sustains its life."

"But it doesn't drink blood," Spike explained. "So how is it feeding without...literally...feeding?"

"Energy," Anya said. "It's killing them by sucking out their energy."

Spike folded his arms across his chest. "And who do we know who's made out of thousand year-old living energy?"

"Oh my God," Willow whispered. "Dawn."

Spike strode across the Magic Shop, his duster billowing out behind him. Wordlessly, the others fell into step behind him.

"Split up," Spike commanded. "Look everywhere. No one comes back here, no one goes home, no one stops until she's found."

*

Dawn stood in the alley next to the building that housed her and Spike's apartment. She had been waiting there for at least an hour. She was sure that he'd stop by once the sun set, to see if she had come home. Not that she had any intention of going home ever again. She just couldn't help but wonder how worried he'd be.

From the dark and deserted appearance of the apartment above her, she figured he wasn't worried at all.

So now she had to figure out what to do next. If she went to one of her friends' houses, or to Xander's or Willow's, eventually Spike would find her. So she couldn't do that.

She leaned her head against the cool brick and closed her eyes. Maybe he wouldn't find her, even at Willow's. Maybe he would just let her stay there. It's not like he cared what happened to her.

"Dawn?"

She opened her eyes and took a step backwards, ready to run. But when she saw who it was, she only smiled.

"Hi Steve."

"Hi." His dusty blue eyes reflected the moon behind her. She felt herself relaxed by his easy smile. He gestured up at the darkened apartment. "I was just going to see if you were okay. You ran out of school today pretty fast."

"Oh, I'm fine," Dawn said. "Actually...maybe not so much fine. I kind of don't want to go home."

"I get what you're saying," Steve said, nodding slightly. "My parents are so nuts; I hate going home too." He threw a glance back to the street behind him. "Hey, you wanna go somewhere with me?"

Dawn's smile stretched so far her jaw started to hurt. He was asking her out! The boy she'd had a crush on all year was actually asking her out! "Yeah," she said, trying to sound less excited than she actually was. "I'd like that."

When Steve held out his hand to her, Dawn thought she might faint. She'd never walked around holding hands with a cute boy before. The worst day of her life was starting to turn into the best.

She took Steve's hand in hers.

It was warm.

TBC


	5. No One Will Ever Love You

Part Five: No One Will Ever Love You

"Are you sure this is okay?" Dawn asked as they approached the house. "I mean...it's kinda late. Your parents won't mind that I'm over?"

Steve stepped on the porch and held out his hand. Dawn followed, slipping her hand into his for the second time that evening. She couldn't help but smile. When she touched him, it felt like electricity was running through her body.

"My parents just went away for the weekend," Steve explained as he unlocked the door. "So you could stay here for as long as you need to."

"Thanks," Dawn said, walking into the dark living room. "It's just...I don't really want to go home right now...stuff with Sp - my cousin...."

"It's okay." Steve said. "Come on in."

He led her to a large, comfortable couch, where he sat down and motioned for her to join him. She sat as close as she could without actually touching him, but she could still feel the heat from his body.

"Do you want anything?" he offered. "Something to drink?"

"No thanks."

"Do you want to talk about what's wrong?" he asked softly, and then added quickly: "I mean, it's none of my business, so it's okay if you don't want to --"

"No, I *do* want to," Dawn said. "It's just...complicated."

"You're not getting along with your cousin?" Steve asked gently.

Dawn sighed. "He's not really my cousin."

*

In the darkened apartment that Spike and Dawn shared, there was the sound of a key being jangled impatiently in the lock. It lasted only a moment, followed by a bang as the door was kicked in.

"Bloody stupid locks," Spike muttered. He strode across the living room and towards the bedrooms. "Dawn!"

Willow came in behind him, but lingered in the entranceway, turning on the lights. Spike was back in a moment.

"She's not here," he said. "Told you this was a damn stupid idea."

"Do you know any of her friends?" Willow asked. "We could start with them. Someone must have heard from her."

Spike whirled around so quickly that Willow didn't even notice his movement, until she felt herself pinned to the wall, his hands pushing threateningly against her shoulders. She held her breath for a moment, wondering if Spike had finally lost it, if she would have to make good on her promise to kill him.

She looked into his angry blue eyes, reading into his thoughts. "You're not going to hurt me," she said. "You're just frustrated and upset about Dawn."

"Enough with the mind games, witch," he growled. "It's not a cute trick anymore. In all honesty, it only makes me want to tear your bloody lungs out. So why don't you use your brain for the first time in years, and figure out how to get her back."

"I'm trying to," Willow said, willing her voice to be steady and calm. "We'll go to her friends' houses, and then we'll --"

Her body tensed as Spike shook her, banging her back into the wall. "Not good enough," he said through clenched teeth.

"Well what the hell do you want from me?" she said, her smooth forehead wrinkling with an angry frown.

"I should have killed the lot of you when I had the chance," Spike said. "Bunch of ignorant knobs." He pushed her away from him roughly.

Willow caught herself on the edge of the couch just before she hit the floor, and looked up at Spike. "Don't make me hurt you," she said softly.

Spike crouched down so that he could meet her determined eyes. Willow shivered at his look. He appeared so normal, so calm, yet with the hint of a monster beneath the surface of his striking face. "You can read my mind," he said. "Read hers."

He took her by the arm, seemingly trying to be gentle, but still rattling her as she pulled her to a standing position. 

"Read hers," he repeated, the request sounding less like a demand and more like a plea.

"I - I don't know if I can," she responded, bracing herself for the blow that didn't come. "I can read your thoughts, but - but that's just some weird thing. It only works with you."

"You said you could kill me if you wanted to," Spike said, his voice even and cold. "If you really think you have power like that, then you can find her."

Willow took a deep breath, trying to summon all her knowledge of magic through the pounding of fear in her ears. "I guess I could."

"Don't *guess*!" Spike said, slamming her body into the wall again.

"Don't *push me*!" Willow shouted back, and with her words a burst of light appeared between them suddenly, propelling Spike backwards.

He landed on the floor in front of her, his head down. Willow began muttering in Latin, stumbling over the words in her panic, trying to figure out a spell that would protect her from Spike's retribution.

But instead of fighting her, Spike looked up and smiled. "That's it," he said. "Like that. Now hurry up, before I have to put a bottle in your face again."

"Great," Willow muttered, as Spike pulled her away from the wall and led her to the couch. "Have I mentioned lately how much I hate our relationship?"

*

She could feel his eyes on her. Those stormy blue eyes that could catch her breath in her throat. Dawn tried to restrain herself from looking up at him. If she did, she was sure she'd never go home again. She'd never go anywhere again. She'd spend the rest of her life with him, lost in his stunning face, telling him all her secrets, finding hope and haven in those gorgeous blue eyes.

Dawn focused on the leg of the coffee table in front of her. It was shaped like a claw at the end, holding on to a ball, pushing it into the plush beige carpet, like a vampire trying to gouge out its victim's eye.

"He's not your cousin?" Steve asked. "Then who is he?"

"He's a...friend," Dawn said, still avoiding looking at him. "He was friends with my sister before..."

"Before she died," Steve finished for her.

"Yeah," Dawn said softly. She cleared her throat. "He promised my sister that he'd take care of me. So when she died...well, he was there, and he couldn't save me. Or her. He felt real guilty about it after. So he told me he was going to keep that promise. That's why I don't have to live with foster parents, or get moved away or anything. He pretended to be a relative so I could stay with him."

"Sounds pretty nice of him," Steve said.

Dawn shook her head. "It's not nice. I mean, sure, it's nice, but not nice to me. Nice to my sister, and she's dead, so --" Dawn tried to clear her throat again, but it only turned into a sob. "Buffy's dead, so it doesn't matter what he does for her." She took a deep breath and wiped an unfallen tear away. "Sorry. I'm not making much sense."

"I think I get it," Steve said. "The only reason he cares about you is because he cares about your sister. So it's like --"

"He doesn't care about me at all," Dawn said softly. "He's just doing it for her."

She felt his hand on her back, but she was too lost in her thoughts to be nervous or excited. She blinked back more tears, but that only made them fall from her eyes faster. The hand was rubbing her now, making slow strokes from her waist to her neck, the friction of the movement making her body warm.

"It's okay," Steve said. He reached her opposite shoulder with his other hand and pulled her into his arms. "It's okay."

Dawn buried her face in Steve's shoulder. The dark color of his shirt filled her vision, blocking out everything else. Her mother, in a grave. Her sister, in a grave. Her only friend, a man who would never love her back. All of it was lost in Steve's embrace. It was all gone, and she was safe now.

*

"Goddess, find her. With my mind, my power, I ask for a link..."

Willow sat in the middle of the living room floor, her hands extended, holding onto Spike's hands, and a candle between them.

"It isn't working," Spike said. 

"Shhhh."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You can give a vamp back his soul, but you can't find one little girl?"

"Shut up," Willow whispered. "Goddess, I call upon you, and all the spirits."

Spike shook his head. "I'm going to get a bottle," he said. "And shove it into your face." He pulled his hands away from Willow's and began to stand up.

"Ah!" Willow shouted. She put her hands to her head and Spike's eyes widened as blue energy circled her. 

"What is it?" he shouted. "Can you see her?"

Willow moaned in response, and the circling light gradually grew dimmer. When it had disappeared completely, Willow collapsed in a heap on the floor. Spike rushed to her side and tried to shake her awake.

"Red!" he shouted. "Red, can you hear me?"

She showed her consciousness by crying softly, a tiny whimper that turned into body-raking sobs. Spike held her by the shoulders.

"Red, come on, snap out of it," he said. "I was only kidding about putting a bottle through your face."

"She doesn't know," Willow cried. "Oh God, she doesn't know."

"What?" Spike sighed in frustration and pulled Willow to her feet, depositing her effortlessly onto the couch, where he sat beside her.

"What are you talking about?" Spike asked. "What did you see?"

Willow wiped the tears from her eyes, but fresh ones sprung up immediately. "It worked," she choked out. "I was able to get into Dawn's mind."

"What did she say?" Spike asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

Willow shook her head sadly. "It wasn't long enough for me to communicate with her. I just saw in, and I saw..." Her words were drowned out by her sobs. 

"Bloody hell, witch," Spike growled. "This is no time to get all girly!"

Willow took in a few breaths, calming herself to the point where she could speak clearly. "I can see into your mind, Spike," she explained. "That's why I never tried to take her away from you. Why all of us let her stay with you. Because I know that you love her."

"Old news, Red," Spike said.

"But I never looked into Dawn's mind before, and..." Willow's chest shook with the effort to not cry out loud. "She doesn't know, Spike. She doesn't know."

"Doesn't know?"

"That you love her," Willow said, her wet eyes meeting his. "Actually, she's completely sure that you don't. To the point where it's part of her now. Embedded in her mind, a constant feeling. And it's so lonely for her." Willow's eyes closed as more tears spilled out. "It's the most pain I've ever felt."

"But - but - oh bloody hell!" Spike stood up and began pacing in front of Willow. "Dammit, how could she think that? I've done everything for her. I've lived for her. I learned to cook!"

"But did you ever tell her?" Willow asked sadly. "Did you ever say, 'I love you.'?"

"Well....yeah, once," Spike said. "It's just...she was kind of...asleep at the time."

"You have to tell her," Willow said, her voice hard and determined though her body sat limp and exhausted. "She's with the demon right now, convinced that no one will ever love her, except him. And he's going to kill her."

"Where is she?" Spike asked.

"I couldn't see it clearly," Willow said. "But it's a house on West Street, with only one light on, in the living room."

Spike was in the doorway in a moment, pushing aside the broken bits of wood.

"Hurry!" Willow called after him, as he disappeared out the door.

*

Steve pulled Dawn away from his shoulder and put his face close to hers. Dawn averted her eyes, embarrassed.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"Don't be sorry," Steve said. "If you need to talk, it's okay. I can do that for you. That's what friends do for each other. And then, if I ever needed something, I know you'd be there for me." He lowered his head to meet her eyes. "I really like you, Dawn. I'd actually like for us to be more than friends."

"Me too," Dawn said.

Steve put his hand on Dawn's chin and gently raised her head. Dawn didn't even realize what was happening until his lips were gently pushing against hers, making only the slightest motion, and then the kiss was over, and Steve was leaning backwards, his hands still on her shoulders.

Dawn felt a dull tingling on her lips, which remained parted. She stared at Steve, at his mesmerizing eyes, his smooth, beautiful face, and the slight, tender smile that played at his lips.

She leaned forward and kissed him back.

She wished she could think of something to say to him, something that could sum up everything she was feeling. The perfect words, to go with this amazing kiss, to explain to him how, with this one moment, everything had changed.

When they finally pulled away from each other's lips, Dawn stammered out: "This - this is so right."

Steve smiled. "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing."

Dawn couldn't help but smile back. "So...are we like, going out now?"

Steve nodded.

Dawn's smile widened. "So...you wanna kiss some more?"

Steve pulled Dawn's body closer to his. Dawn let her body go limp, responding only to the strokes of his lips and tongue, and the heat of his hands as he ran them up her back, over her shoulders, and down her chest, where his soft, warm fingers began to unbutton her shirt.

*

Spike tore down the quiet, residential streets, pausing only to look at the street signs. He ignored the coldness on his bare chest, and the sticky remains of ice cream that begged to be washed off. 

Instead, he thought about the first time he ever talked to Dawn. She was twelve years old at the time, that horrible age between being a child and being a teenager. But she was beautiful in her adolescent awkwardness, her body lean as she sat slouched on the kitchen counter, her shiny hair twisted into long braids, her eyes heavy with sleep, but still so large and deep that they almost made Spike falter in his ranting every time he looked into them.

Joyce had tried to get Dawn to go back to bed, but she was firm in her pubescent rebellion, and anxious to find out more about the vampire who she had only glimpsed in the past.

"So she just broke up with you?" Dawn had asked. "Just like that?"

Spike had nodded sadly. "She just left. She didn't even care enough to cut off my head or set me on fire."

Dawn wrinkled her nose with disgust. "Ew. Why would you want her to do that?"

"It's what vamps do when they break up," Spike explained. "They kill each other."

"How totally messed up," Dawn muttered.

"Well, Spike," Joyce said, trying to comfort him. "Sometimes even when two people seem right for each other, their lives just take different paths. When Buffy's father and I..."

"No, this is different," Spike interrupted. "Our love was eternal. Literally." He looked up from his cup of hot chocolate and smiled at her. "You got any of those little marshmallows?"

"Well, lemme look," Joyce said.

"You shouldn't eat those," Dawn warned Spike. "They're monkey brains."

"They are not," Spike countered.

"Are too," Dawn shot back.

"Are not," Spike said. "Believe me, Nibblet, I've seen monkey brains, and they're much bigger," he explained. "Also, they're not white. They're mostly gray, with a bit of blood on them."

"Nibblet," Dawn said with a half-smile. "That sounds cool. What's it mean?"

Spike considered the question as Joyce continued rummaging around in the kitchen cabinets. "It means tiny little adorable girl," he said.

Dawn's eyes averted with shyness. "I'm not adorable."

"Yes you are," Spike said, sipping the hot chocolate. "And don't try to argue with me about it. I'm a vicious killer, you know."

Dawn giggled. "No you're not."

"Am too," Spike said. "I'm an evil monster, and don't you forget it."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Her expression made Spike chuckle, momentarily distracting him from his pain over Drusilla. She had made an impression on him that night, and when he returned to Sunnydale nearly a year later to find the Gem of Amarra, he made it a point to ask Buffy to tell Dawn he said hello, which only earned him an extra punch in the face.

He slowed down when he saw a sign that read, "West Street". This was it. Somewhere on this street, Dawn was in trouble. He was going to find her, and save her, or die trying.

*

When Dawn felt a draft against her chest, she pulled back from Steve slightly, and grabbed her shirt to prevent it from flying open.

"We --" she stammered out, a pink blush beginning to spread across her face. "We shouldn't do anything like this."

"Why not?" Steve asked. He brushed a strand of hair off her face, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment. "I'm your boyfriend now, right?"

Dawn smiled involuntarily at the mention of the word 'boyfriend'. "I guess," she said. "I mean, yeah, if you want to be."

"I really want to be," he said. He put both hands on her face now, holding her gently." I love you, Dawn."

Dawn felt her throat close up, and she was afraid she might start crying. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Steve solved her problem by kissing her again, seeming to swallow her mouth in his. She allowed him to pull her body completely against his, one hand at her back, holding her steady, the other hand toying with the button on her pants.

Dawn's thoughts were fleeting and fragmented. All she could hear was Steve saying, "I love you." It seemed to fill up a place inside her that had been desperate and empty for so long that she hadn't even imagined how good it would feel to finally hear someone say those words to her.

It was perfect. She was finally happy, finally loved, and everything was going to be better now.

Then she felt a slight burning on her stomach, where Steve's now-bare torso touched hers. She tried to pull away a little, but he grasped her shoulders and held her tightly. She wrenched her mouth free from his.

"Steve," she gasped out with the first breath she was able to draw. "Steve, stop a second."

He responded by running his hands down her arms and grabbing her tightly by her wrists. Where his skin met hers, she felt a horrible, pulling burning, like her insides were about to be sucked out of her body.

She tried to shake her arms free of his grip, but he held fast. "Steve, let go of me," she said. "What are you doing?"

Steve smiled, but it wasn't his usual, sweet smile, that melted away her thoughts and made her tingle with happiness. It was a wicked smile, like a cat about to pounce. He forced his lips against hers again, but this time they felt like daggers driving into her face.

She screamed against his kiss, but the sound was muffled, and the pain was only getting stronger, brighter. When he released her mouth, she sobbed weakly, closing her eyes, and she heard him laugh.

"Stop it," she said softly, fighting against the pain that threatened her with unconsciousness. She summoned the last of her strength to shout, "Stop it! Help! Help!" She threw back her head and screamed with the last bit of breath left in her lungs.

"Spike!"

*

"Did you find them?" Spike heard Willow say in his head.

"Not yet, but I think I'm close," Spike responded out loud. He stopped at a small, brick house and studied it. There was only one light on, a small lamp, muted by heavy curtains. "I think this is it. I'm going in."

"But how can you?" Willow said. "You're not invited."

"If it's a demon's place, I don't need to be," Spike said as he approached the front porch.

"But if the demon's there," Willow warned. "You won't know how to kill it."

"I'll find a way," Spike said. He got to the door, and paused a moment, wondering whether he should knock or just smash it to bits. He was still pondering it when he heard the scream.

"Spike!"

"Dawn," he whispered.

His face morphed into its vampire visage, and there was a thunderous crash as the front door came off its hinges with enough force to send it flying into the house, where it overturned a small table, and broke into two pieces on the opposite wall.

He turned to see Dawn lying on a couch, buried underneath the boy he'd met earlier that day. Steve raised his head and smirked at Spike.

"Stay back, vampire," he said. "You're too late. I'm almost done with her." He looked down at Dawn, who whimpered softly, but remained still. "Besides," he continued. "You can't kill me with your feeble bloodsucking." 

"You're right," Spike said. "I can't."

He rushed to the couch, grabbed Steve by the shoulders, and pulled him off Dawn. Steve threw a punch, but Spike caught his hand and crushed it. Steve winced with pain, but his wicked smile quickly returned. 

"I'll heal, regenerate," Steve said. "I always do. I'm immortal.. You can hurt me all you want, vampire, but I'll just keep coming back."

Spike pulled the boy close to him, so that their faces were nearly touching.

"Come back from this," Spike growled.

Spike grabbed Steve's head with both his hands and twisted until he felt the snapping of a broken neck. Then he paused, and the bare muscles of his arms flexed. He twisted again, until Steve's head had come off his body completely.

Spike let the head fall to the ground beside its body, but noticed that Steve's mouth was still slowly moving, as if trying to speak. After a moment it managed to croak out, "I'll still come back. I'll still get her."

Spike scanned the room until he noticed a rack beside the fireplace. He picked up one of the pokers and raised it high, growling as he drove it through Steve's flesh. 

"You don't touch her!" Spike shouted as he let the poker fall again and again. "You don't touch her! You don't touch her!"

Eventually the thick beige carpet was so saturated with blood that it was nearly black. Spike stopped. He dropped the poker, collected the remains of Steve, and carried them outside to the front lawn.

When Steve's body was burned, and the ashes were burned, Spike put out his cigarette and walked back inside the house.

He stood in the entranceway and looked over at Dawn, lying motionless on the couch. He wanted to run up to her and take her in his arms, but he was afraid that when he did, he'd find that her body was cold.

He couldn't bear to look at her if she was dead.

He always wondered if she'd die before him. When Buffy had died, and Spike found himself surrounded by her human friends, he became comfortable with the fact that he'd outlive them all. He hardly minded, since he didn't like them much. But thinking about Dawn caused a bit more discomfort. He didn't want to watch her grow up, grow old, and eventually die. So he decided that he would be the one to die first. Die fighting. Die protecting her.

But now, as Spike stood in victory over her attacker, Dawn lay on the couch, her clothes askew and her eyes closed.

Spike unconsciously decided that if she was dead, he would sit on the front porch and wait for sunrise. It would just be too much.

"Dawn?" he said softly. He took a step closer to the living room. He could see more of her body as he moved closer. She wasn't moving at all.

"Dawn?" he said again. 

He saw her chest move slightly, and then a sound: "Spike?"

In a moment he was kneeling beside the couch, over her body. She looked pale, and her breaths were shallow, but she was alive. He brushed her hair out of her face, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead.

"Hey Dawn," he said, his face breaking into a wide smile. 

Dawn blinked up at him, trying to get her eyes to focus. "Spike," she said. "You....you smell like you're covered in chocolate."

Spike looked down at his bare chest and chuckled. "Had a bit of an accident with an ice cream cone."

Dawn lifted her head slightly and looked around the room. "Steve?" she asked.

"Dead," he said. "Dismembered. Set on fire."

"Oh," Dawn said weakly. "That's good." She looked down at her body and noticed that her shirt was still undone. She clasped her hands over herself protectively and looked back up at Spike, her eyes glistening with tears she didn't have the strength to cry.

"I - I'm sorry," she said. "That was so stupid."

Spike shook his head. "Doesn't matter now, Nibblet."

"I shouldn't have let him," she continued. "It's just....I thought....I thought that no one else would ever love me."

Spike looked down into Dawn's sad face. Her eyes were as beautiful as they'd always been, those eyes that seemed to contain a thousand years of secrets and wisdom. He wiped away some of the wetness around them with his fingertips, and then touched her thin, pink lips, which were slightly bruised from the demon's attack. 

"No one will ever love you," Spike said.

He brought his mouth down on top of hers, brushing her lips only slightly, so that the kiss felt less like a touch and more like a gentle gust of air. Dawn responded, taking his lower lip in-between hers and kissing it softly, and though the motion caused a bolt of pain through her face, she didn't even notice it.

Spike put his hand to her cheek as he pulled back from the kiss, and as he stared into her face Dawn realized where she had seen his eyes before. The ocean of her childhood, right after the storm, when the waves went back to their calm, comforting rhythm, and the surf was safe to walk in again. 

"As much as I do," Spike finished.

And he kissed her again.

The End


End file.
